


Sweet Peach

by Snowy38



Category: Harry Styles - Fandom, Larry Stylinson - Fandom, Louis Tomlinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: But he turns into a softie, Farmer!louis, Fashion!Harry, Fluff, Harry is a bit obnoxious at the start, Hate to Love, Jealousy, Loss, M/M, Making Out, Smut, Top Louis, bereavement, coming home
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2018-12-23 02:08:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 33,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11979870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowy38/pseuds/Snowy38
Summary: "I should apologise," Harry blurted, swallowing his mouthful of pancake."Should?" Louis interrupted acidly, plopping into a seat opposite him. He was so small he didn't even fill it where Harry went over the edge of his own."Yeah, I mean it wasn't my intention to upset anyone and-""Should, or want to?" Louis cut over him again, looking at him pointedly.Harry blinked. He'd put on pink shadow to match his shirt."Erm, what's the difference?" He asked, confused."Should is, like an obligation, a moral responsibility perhaps," Louis considered. "Want to denotes true remorse. An acceptance of being in the wrong."...or the one where Harry inherits a peach farm from his Uncle and falls in love with the farm hand.





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

 

"Darling! How are you!"

 

Harry Styles' long arms reached for the colourful man heading towards him; curling him into a hug.

 

They air-kissed each other's cheeks twice on each side.

 

"I'm good, H, what about you?" Nick Grimshaw asked, popping a hip and resting his elbow on it, fingers supporting his chin as he fixed an interested gaze upon Harry.

 

Harry flashed a smile; straightening his blazer and smoothing out the wrinkles on his trousers from being sat in the back of a limo.

 

"Front row seats," Harry promised his friend. "Stealing all their ideas, darling..."

 

Nick laughed and Harry with him.

 

Harry dressed and accessorised all of the runways shown by Dior Fashion House. He hadn't been allowed to sneak backstage tonight at Gucci like he did at most shows but that only meant he was seen as a threat.

 

 _Good_.

 

Harry wanted to be the best at what he did. He wanted to dress people in beautiful clothes and drink champagne for the rest of his life.

 

There was a young boy inside him who once enjoyed nothing more than the adventures of being outdoors but twenty-two year old Harry remembered nothing of that sparkly, bright kid.

 

His patterned, fitted suit and made-up eyes reflected exactly who he was. Exactly who he wanted to be.

 

//

 

"I can't say it was very ground breaking," Harry muttered as the runway emptied, the last full walk finished.

 

The lady next to him- a famous actress he didn't know- giggled.

 

"It was awful wasn't it! Should have gone straight to dinner..."

 

Harry smiled blandly at her and looked around hoping to spot a familiar face. Nick would be busy in the toilets; undoubtedly sniffing lines from a foil packet while his shoulders were draped with a heavy fur coat. That was his thing apparently. The thing he liked to do.

 

Harry bit his lip, a familiar sensation washing over him. 

 

_Loneliness._

 

He didn't know anyone here, not on a personal level where he could talk about his dreams and ideas. In fact he knew very few people who fit into that category and coming to these shows only served to remind him how achingly obviously alone he was.

 

The bright lights and glamour may be his calling but a lonely life was not.

 

He looked around again, this time catching the interested gaze of a blonde woman not more than twelve feet away.

 

"Well hello, gorgeous," Harry murmured to himself before cocking a brow at her.

 

Within ten seconds the girl was in front of him with her hand out ready for shaking.

 

"Harry, right?" She checked.

 

Harry hummed.

 

"And you are?" He purred, letting one hip slink lower as he pursed his lips.

 

"Amelia," the girl smiled, big and Hollywood style.

 

Harry gave her the once over.

 

"Let's get out of here shall we Amelia?" He invited warmly.

 

The woman obediently followed. Harry wouldn't be lonely tonight after all.

 

//

 

"Outta the way! Timber!"

 

Louis Tomlinson yelled out at the top of his lungs and with his record for the velocity of his voice he'd no doubt be heard for miles.

 

"Easy does it," The older man beside him counselled, the pair of them moving around with gloved hands on the ropes controlling the tree's fall.

 

The tall aspen had to come down because it was blocking too much light coming into the orchard.

 

And "Tom's Peach Yard" needed light to grow the number of peaches required to make a living.

 

Louis' arms were taut with natural built muscle, directing the trunk down into the undergrowth carefully.

 

"Just-" Tom huffed breathlessly. "Lemme catch my breath..."

 

Louis saluted, letting the tree rest against the moist ground among the wild grasses growing there.

 

"Want me to get Hank to come around with the mower again?" Louis asked as Tom took a seat on the felled trunk.

 

Tom nodded but his head stayed low, his hand resting against his chest. Louis dropped his ropes and began the walk toward him.

 

"Tom? You ok?"

 

The older man's face contorted in pain as he clutched at his chest, his body rolling off the trunk and into the grass.

 

"Tom? _Fuck!"_ Louis began to run; stumbling down to his knees to sit him up, to check his heartbeat.

 

"Call the medic," his boss whispered, face pale and sweaty. "Think I'm having a heart attack..."

 

Louis unhooked the walkie-talkie from his utility belt and called in for help.

 

"Hank...come in, Hank?"

 

The radio hissed with static.

 

"I read ya two-eight. What can I do ya for?"

 

"Hank get an ambulance down here," Louis commanded with a voice that sounded much calmer than his body felt. "Tom's having a cardiac arrest..."

 

"Oh shit- Yessir," Hank answered. "Over an' out."

 

Louis wiped the sweat off his brow and tucked the radio away, fighting the tears that came to his eyes.

 

Tom couldn't die. Not out here and not like this. The man was more than a boss to him;  he was more like a father figure.

 

Ever since Louis had run away from a violent home at sixteen and ended up begging for a job at the farm, Tom had taken him in and treated him like his own.

 

Tom and his wife Margaret didn't have children. Margaret had been told long before she'd never be able to. And Louis showing up and becoming their son of sorts had filled her world with hope.

 

Tom had told him several times that if he wanted to leave then the door was open to come back. He'd told Louis to see the world to make something of himself.

 

Louis had made himself a great peach farmer. But now the world as he knew it was changing. Tom's pulse became so faint it nearly stopped. He blacked out and Louis moved him to pump his heart, praying for the ambulance to arrive soon.

 

_It was taking too long! Why weren't they here yet?!_

 

The sound of a four wheeler chasing across the clearing was the best sound of his life.

 

"We're coming Louis!" Hank yelled from the helm of the vehicle whilst Louis paced his pumps to Tom's chest, breathing air into his lungs between presses.

 

He scrambled back as the paramedic crew took over, leaving him to stare at the other farm hand with bewilderment.

 

"He's fit as an ox-"

 

Hank, older than Louis by ten years but still a good twenty years younger than Tom, pulled him into a tough hug.

 

"He'll be ok. He's strong as an oak that one."

 

Louis closed his eyes and burrowed into Hank's side.

 

//

 

"What do you mean I've inherited a peach farm?"

 

Harry frowned at his Lawyer confusedly. He'd had the call to say his Uncle, Tom Styles, had passed away. He'd never been close to his Dad's side of the family, his father had all but disowned him when he'd started painting his nails aged fourteen.

 

His Dad had been embarrassed to have an effeminate son who liked Barbie more than football. And Harry had happily stayed with his mother when they'd divorced a year later.

 

Anne had told him he could paint his nails whatever colour he liked. After that he'd started to experiment with make up and Vogue became his bible.

 

He didn't understand how it could come about that he was named in someone's Will he barely knew.

 

"I've spoken to Margaret and she's not going to contest ownership," Liam explained. "Her heart hurts too much is what she told me. She's too distraught to run a business."

 

Harry focused on the legal man, lashes darkened with mascara and lips shaded red with lipstick. His eyelids glimmered with the bronze shadow he'd stroked lightly there that morning.

 

"And you think I've got what it takes?" He challenged.

 

Liam lifted his chin.

 

"We know you took a business degree Harry. You might not have decided to use it but-"

 

"Isn't there someone else?" Harry beseeched, huffing as he got up to pace about the room. He threw his arms out in frustration. "Surely Uncle Tom didn't run the place on his own?"

 

"There's two staff. Hank Rogers and Louis Tomlinson. They're the brawn, Harry. They do the gruff work."

 

"Can't they learn the business side?" He exasperated.

 

Liam licked his lips.

 

"You've got to remember they've lost somebody too. Not just a boss from what I understand. Tom treated his staff like family."

 

Harry snorted.

 

"How ironic since he hasn't spoken to his _actual_ family in ten years..."

 

When his Dad disowned him, Harry hadn't heard from his Uncle or Aunt since.

 

Liam blinked.

 

"Does that really matter right now? When he's passed away and his funeral is tomorrow?"

 

Harry flicked his olive eyes to his Lawyer again.

 

"You think I'm heartless." He stated.

 

Liam smiled. He knew Harry quite well. Over the years he'd helped Harry with work contracts and trademark intricacies.

 

"I just need you to think about it," Liam explained. "If you refuse the inheritance then I've got a huge job on my hands trying to find the next of kin."

 

Harry mulled it over. He'd been thinking of taking a break. He'd planned to take a yacht to the Bahamas with some select friends but maybe a few weeks in Sacramento, California would suffice. It would only take him a month or so to have the business up and running and then he could come back to New York and manage it from there.

 

"Alright," he hummed. "I'll go for the funeral and get a stock of the place. See if it's profitable."

 

Liam lifted his brows, clearly surprised by his decision.

 

"Good...great," Liam enthused, rushing to gather up the papers lain on his desk. "I'll get the business titles sorted."

 

Harry nodded and left the office, hovering on the sidewalk for a moment with his hands tucked into his cropped jacket pockets. He glanced down at his silver boots, decorated with blue trimmings. He smirked. He'd better get home and start packing.

 

//

 

"You could at least help me!" Harry yelled at his buddy while he ran about pulling clothes from his walk-in closet only to throw them on his bed.

 

Zayn Malik sat in the corner on the Victorian arm chair Harry had placed there for aesthetic reasons. His four poster bed and floral overtones gave the room a distinctly period feel.

 

"You seem to be managing alright on your own," Zayn called back with a smirk.

 

"What do I wear to the funeral?" 

 

Harry wandered out with a sleek black suit, ribbons stitched up the side of the trouser legs.

 

Zayn arched a brow.

 

"What's wrong with that one?"

 

"The trousers are a bit tight on my ass," Harry bemoaned. "Don't want to shock the country bumpkins."

 

"There might be a cute guy there," Zayn encouraged. "You've been off the circuit for a while now."

 

"No I haven't," Harry straightened tensely. "I fucked that girl at the Gucci show remember?"

 

Zayn tilted his head.

 

"Did you see her again?"

 

"No," Harry frowned.

 

"Then it doesn't count."

 

"It counts," Harry argued. "It's still sex," he huffed.

 

"Mate, you used to love being paired up. This place was your love nest...what happened?"

 

Harry tossed the suit onto the growing pile on the bed and disappeared back into the closet.

 

"You know what happened," he called loudly. "I thought I was in love with a woman who decided to make me the laughing stock of the fashion scene after fucking a designer practically in full view of the paparazzi while I sat alone at a table meant for two at The Ivy waiting for her; only she never showed up."

 

He heard Zayn sigh even from among his suits. He carried out the dark grey patterned one he'd worn last week.

 

"What will you need that for?" Zayn laughed.

 

Harry shrugged.

 

"Executive meetings?"

 

"Where do you think you're going?" Zayn teased. "London? Think more barn dance than boardroom, babe."

 

Harry rolled his eyes and popped a hip.

 

"Darling. I simply don't _do_ country."

 

Zayn finally got up.

 

"You've got to have something better than that in that monstrosity you call a wardrobe," he muttered as he walked towards it and Harry by default. "Move out of the way..."

 

Harry grinned and clapped his hands, performing a mini happy dance while Zayn's back was turned in the closet.

 

"I saw that!" Zayn shouted.

 

Harry bit his lip to repress his grin.

 

//

 

"I don't know how I'll get through tomorrow..."

 

Margaret sighed, picking up her mug from the wooden kitchen table and sipping the tea from it. 

 

Louis sat beside her, always her rock.

 

"Just take it as it comes. If it gets too much no one will judge you for leaving."

 

The older woman looked at the handsome young man beside her and reached to cup his face fondly. Tears edged her eyes.

 

"If I didn't have you here Louis-"

 

Louis swallowed, his own tears wadded in his throat.

 

"I feel the same. You're the mother I never had," he complimented.

 

Margaret reached for him and he twisted to hug her; feeling her break down into tears on his shoulder.

 

"We'll get through this somehow," he whispered holding her tight. "I'm not going anywhere."

 

//

 

There was a guy at the wake. A very pretty guy. One Harry was conflicted about having such an instant reaction to.

 

Although he was open about his bi-sexuality, he had only dated women so far. The odd night of debauchery had caught him blowing the odd guy; fucking between his thighs even. But he hadn't ever gone _there_. Like the whole way.

 

Partly because he couldn't deny his wariness about indulging in anal sex, but mostly because he hadn't met anyone who-

 

Well; _wow_.

 

Popped an inappropriate boner like this little guy did.

 

He was called Louis. Louis Tomlinson. He had learnt this from hearing several of the men attending the funeral call him different versions of his name- some called him by his surname only. He must be one of the farm-hands Liam told him about because he stayed glued to his Aunt Margaret's side.

 

Harry was pretty sure his Aunt didn't recognise him. He'd slunk into the back of the church for the funeral sermon dressed in his simple black suit, a white shirt and a thin neck-tie looped loosely around his neck. His hair was slicked back and he'd kept his make-up at minimum- a little smoky grey shadow with mascara on his eyes, a slick of pink lipstick and black nails.

 

He was counting the number of dirty looks he got and so far it totalled thirty-two.

 

He waited then, slouching by the drinks table back at the farm. He got bored quickly though and found that watching Louis was an agreeable past-time. At least until his body had decided to go renegade and his stiffy had forced him to use the men's room early on.

 

He'd headed back into the warm, inviting country kitchen to hunt down the elusive farm-hand, to try and get the low-down on what was needed around here. Harry didn't plan on getting his Gucci boots dirty so he needed to learn the ropes with the books and it seemed that Louis was the best person to show him that.

 

He found him, _with a mild smirk and a lift of his brows in interest_ , bending over the side-board writing something down. He was dressed in a beautifully tight dark grey suit; the flumes of his jacket splitting and arching up as he bent at the waist.

 

He had a lovely derriere. A behind that Harry might like to investigate in detail.

 

Harry sidled up to him, hitching his hip against the wooden furniture, pursing his bowed lips.

 

"And don't you have the sweetest peach of all?" He drawled in silky, low tones, the type of voice he used to secure a date for the night.

 

Louis looked up with a frown, to check Harry was speaking to him apparently.

 

"Excuse me?"

 

"Your peach," Harry pointed his wine glass towards Louis' derriere. "Very sweet."

 

Harry arched a brow and smiled, just small enough to portray his seduction.

 

Louis blinked. His lashes were thick and quite mesmerising.

 

"Are you hitting on me?" He asked, evidently a bit slow on the uptake.

 

Harry laughed.

 

"You could have pretended I wasn't for a bit longer..."

 

Louis' face twisted into disbelief.

 

"At a funeral? You're _actually_ hitting on me?" He squinted.

 

Harry shrugged.

 

"Didn't know the guy."

 

Louis' face changed then, becoming steely. His own lips pursed but it wasn't in a flirty pout.

 

His eyes dropped and then swept back up, covering Harry's face.

 

" _I_ knew the guy," his brow arched as he spoke. "He was like a father to me," he explained softly, the rough timbre of his voice surely caused by the emotion swirling in his storm-like eyes.

 

Harry took a sip of his champagne.

 

"You don't fancy a fuck to cheer yourself up then?" He mused, his hope flagging the same way his belly flopped.

 

 _Shame_. Louis was really quite pretty...

 

Louis stepped back, hands fisted in apparent control not to hit him. Harry opened his mouth to apologise, to say something nicer, to-

 

"I don't know who you are, but I think you'd better get the _fuck_ out..."

 

Harry smiled smugly, his own brow lifting haughtily.

 

"I'm afraid I can't, darling. I own this place."

 

Louis frowned, his eyes becoming dark with anger.

 

"You what?"

 

"Oh, didn't anyone tell you?" He slugged back another mouthful of wine. "Your Daddy gave the farm to me, the nephew he never saw. I guess you weren't the prodigal son after all..."

 

Harry didn't see Louis move, all he knew was that the impact of a fist glanced across his cheek and he fell; rather clumsily to the floor, the glass shattering in his hand. Blood began to seep from the cuts on his fingers.

 

"What the _fuck_?!" He whispered, getting to his knees.

 

A commotion rang out; Margaret rushing to press a clean towel to Harry's hand.

 

"Come on, let's get you to the bathroom," she gathered him up and helped him to his feet.

 

Harry glared at Louis, licking his pink lips.

 

"Just because you're a bigot doesn't give you any right to hit me," he hissed.

 

Louis stepped forward, held back by Margaret's hand.

 

"Louis, this isn't the time," she begged.

 

"Just because you own the farm, doesn't give you any right to insult us either!" Louis yelled as Margaret dragged the stranger away.

 

//

 

Margaret sat Harry on the close toilet seat and sighed.

 

"Harry," she breathed, tilting her head with a maternal smile.

 

Something familiar flickered in Harry's brain, a memory of scuffing his knee in the yard and Margaret cleaning it up, perhaps.

 

"Auntie," he pursed his lips with a brow-arch. He sighed.

 

"Why were you fighting with Louis?"

 

Harry shrugged.

 

"Thought he was cute," he admitted. "Turns out he didn't feel the same."

 

Margaret didn't show any shock to the fact Harry just admitted he liked guys. He watched her with careful green eyes.

 

"How are _you_ doing, though?" He wondered as she cleaned his cuts.

 

She gave a wobbly smile.

 

"Not too good, my darling. And you should know that Louis is like a son to us. He holds your Uncle very dear in his heart. You mustn't bait him that way."

 

Harry shrugged helplessly, hissing as Margaret applied some cream to his fingers.

 

"I didn't ask to come here. Why did Tom give me the business?" He asked.

 

Margaret stepped back and cupped his face in both hands; having bandaged his bleeding fingers together firmly to stem the flow.

 

"He always wanted to get back in touch with you. We didn't know how to find you. Anne wouldn't give us your address and-"

 

Harry frowned.

 

"My Mum wouldn't tell you?"

 

Margaret shook her head.

 

"I think she was too afraid. We understood of course but-" Margaret smiled softly, looking at the bruise on his cheek. "But we wanted you to come home one day."

 

"This isn't home," Harry barked and then regretted it when Margaret's face became strained. She looked so much older.

 

"I know, sweetheart. But we wanted to try."

 

He stayed still while she smudged arnica on his cheek, stepping back once more with a forced smile.

 

"I'll talk to Louis. You're staying, are you?"

 

Harry bit his lip.

 

"Just to get the business in order. Then I'll manage it from New York."

 

Margaret gave him a look which he didn't understand.

 

"Okay," she agreed anyway. "Take it easy on Lou, he's broken-hearted."

 

Harry rolled his eyes once Margaret had moved away.

 

He knew what it felt like to be broken-hearted but he didn't go around hitting people. Louis would have to go. He just had to bide his time before he could dismiss him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyy everyone hope you're all well? Thank you to those live reading, and belated howdy to those reading after it's posted!!
> 
> I always forget to thank everyone who helps me on my fics but I appreciate all my supporters!!
> 
> Ang

"So how's it going bro?"

 

The only small consolation was that WIFI was available at the farm. Harry had dialled Zayn's contact in Skype the moment he'd been assigned a guest room. He flopped onto his stomach on the bed, naked bar his boxers.

 

"Awful," Harry turned his bruised cheek towards the camera. "The farm-hand hit me."

 

Zayn's eyes rounded in surprise.

 

"What did you say to him?"

 

Harry made an indignant face.

 

"Excuse me?" He pointed a hand to his chest. "Why would you assume that I was the reason for this violence?"

 

Zayn chuckled.

 

"Because I know you, Styles..."

 

Harry sighed and fidgeted.

 

"I asked him out, if you must know."

 

"At a funeral?" Zayn made a face. "Dude, that's low even for you..."

 

"Jesus, he was wandering around looking gorgeous and I just-I-"

 

Zayn began to smile one of his big, goofy smiles. His brown eyes softened. Harry pursed his lips.

 

"What?"

 

"You like him!" He accused happily.

 

"Erm, did I mention that he hit me, Zayn? Kinda a deal-breaker don't you think?"

 

Zayn shrugged.

 

"Work on your lines, bro. Clearly you picked a bad one."

 

Harry sighed at the teasing and picked at the blanket.

 

"I'm looking at the books tomorrow. Could use some moral support," he hinted.

 

Zayn tilted his head.

 

"You know I'm walking for Dolce tomorrow. Soon, though yeah?"

 

"Yeah," Harry sulked.

 

"Why don't you ask one of your other friends?" Zayn suggested.

 

Harry looked to the bed and swallowed. _What other friends?_ He didn't have any. Only ones that wanted to know if there was a party with free drink or something to smoke on hand. He pushed  a smile onto his lips.

 

"I'll do that," he lied.

 

"Hey, put on your pink shirt," Zayn added. "That always makes you feel better."

 

Zayn was right of course. Harry put on the pink shirt the next morning and headed down to breakfast in his jeans and socks; his hair a curly mess on his head. He'd slicked it back for the funeral but the jar of Bryl-cream wasn't in his case so he had a sneaking suspicion Zayn had swiped it for his own quiffed locks. He'd probably done that just for the sole purpose of Harry having to walk around with curly hair until he finally managed to find civilisation and purchase a new gel.

 

He was surprised to find pancakes on the table along with freshly squeezed orange juice (the juicer was on the side, he could see it had been used) and a range of cut fruit. Margaret was fiddling with what appeared to be an ancient coffee-machine, struggling to fit the filter lid.

 

"Gosh, darn it," she muttered as it clattered to the worktop.

 

"Here, let me," Harry swooped in and quickly fixed the filter into place, adding the beans and plugging the device into the wall to turn it on. "Fresh coffee in ten minutes," he promised with a lop-sided smile.

 

"You still have those beautiful dimples," Margaret observed, making Harry flush. "And that lovely curl in your hair..."

 

He turned away before she made him feel any more like the eight-year old version of himself she remembered so well.

 

"Yeah, still the same guy," he murmured, settling into a seat.

 

He helped himself to food once Margaret gave him the go ahead. His breath caught when he heard footsteps come from up the stairs.

 

"Louis, hurry down, darling!" Margaret called, setting up mugs for the coffee.

 

"Harry's already tucking into the pancakes and there's fresh coffee from the machine he got working for me..."

 

"I prefer tea," the voice behind Harry stated and he watched while Louis moved to hug Margaret, kissing her cheek fondly. "Morning."

 

"Morning," she replied with a happy smile, the opposite of the look Harry had inspired yesterday from her. "How's your hand?"

 

Louis lifted his hand for her to inspect, his brow shooting up.

 

"Yeah, I'll live. No broken bones. Maybe next time, eh?"

 

Harry felt pinned under his ice-blue stare. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

 

"I should apologise," he blurted, swallowing his mouthful of pancake.

 

"Should?" Louis interrupted acidly, plopping into a seat opposite him. He was so small he didn't even fill it where Harry went over the edge of his own.

 

"Yeah, I mean it wasn't my intention to upset anyone and-"

 

"Should, or _want_ to?" Louis cut over him again, looking at him pointedly.

 

Harry blinked. He'd put on pink shadow to match his shirt.

 

"Erm, what's the difference?" He asked, confused.

 

"Should is, like an obligation, a moral responsibility perhaps," Louis considered. " _Want_ _to_ denotes true remorse. An acceptance of being in the wrong."

 

" _You_ hit _me_ ," Harry said, softly since he was trying to make the peace here. He was trying to iron things out for Margaret's sake at least.

 

"For good reason," Louis counter-acted.

 

"But it wasn't like I was deliberately trying to-"

 

"But you did," Louis argued, helping himself to fruit and pancakes with careful hands. They were rough-looking and a little dry.

 

Harry wanted to know what they'd feel like against his smooth skin. He wanted to know if Louis would let him rub moisturiser into those calloused digits...

 

"I-" His lips parted as he frowned, confused.

 

 _What was he thinking about? What were they talking about, even?_ He felt lost.

 

"So, unless you _want_ to apologise I wouldn't bother," Louis smiled wanly, no warmth in it. "Because it doesn't mean anything to me."

 

Harry looked to his plate and felt something swirl around his chest, something like annoyance or anger. He stood up slowly and carried his plate to the sink.

 

"Margaret, thank you for breakfast," he said softly, turning towards the archway to leave.

 

"Too damn spoilt to even wash up," he heard Louis mutter behind him. "Typical city boy."

 

Harry tensed on hearing the accusation but forced himself to keep walking until he was as far away from Louis Tomlinson as he could get.

 

//

 

Harry washed up after dinner.

 

He deliberately snuck out of his room later on to make a cocoa for Margaret- the only thing he knew how to make- and he found himself caught out in front of Louis; wearing lounge pants and a tee-shirt, his make-up removed.

 

He lifted his chin a bit as he found the smaller-man's gaze on him, flicking up and down.

 

"I came to make cocoa," he said.

 

Louis was sat at the table shelling peas with Margaret. Harry glanced back at them as he set up a pan on the stove, taking milk from the fridge.

 

"End cupboard," Margaret called as Harry began to search for the cocoa.

 

He pulled it out along with some sugar and the little marsh-mallows that would melt in the top of the cup.

 

"Hey, you even have the little marsh-mallows," he commended with a smile.

 

"They're Louis' favourite," Margaret shared.

 

Harry turned to watch them, seeing Louis smiling at the older woman. He could see their relationship easily. Mother and son.

 

"Tom used to help me with the vegetables," she went on to add. "We used to sit and talk and-"

 

Louis' hand curved around her shoulder when she paused, choked up.

 

Harry leaned back on the counter with a frown. His chest pinched painfully.

 

"I can help," he called, before he could stop his mouth from opening.

 

Louis turned and gave him the once-over, snorting his amusement.

 

"Sure thing, city-boy."

 

Harry straightened up, taking a step forward.

 

"I can help," he said again, softer, more emphatically. "I can learn."

 

"Aren't you usually dressing people?" Louis asked.

 

Harry cocked a hip and put a hand on it. How would Louis know that unless-

 

 _Unless he'd done his research_.

 

"Yes, I am."

 

"Don't think shelling peas is really your forte, do you?"

 

"Louis," he heard Margaret chastise gently as he turned back to his pan of milk.

 

He poured their drinks and brought them over, extra marsh-mallows in Louis' cup.

 

"Did you put poison in mine?" Louis peered into the froth. "Covering it up with mallows?"

 

Harry blinked and cupped his own drink protectively, not sitting down.

 

"I'm not a bad person," he stated very simply, a little bit miffed at Louis' first impression of him, however rightful.

 

"Of course you're not," Margaret reached for him and slipped an arm around his waist.

 

Harry leaned into it and then stepped away.

 

"I'm going back to bed," he announced and then slinked away.

 

//

 

"What's he like?"

 

Hank and Louis were out on the cherry-picker, thinning out the blooms of the peach trees. It was a warm day and Louis had a baseball cap pulled on to shade his eyes. He was tanned already but even with sun-block he was only getting browner. He'd taken his top off around mid-morning to even out his pale torso which never saw the light of day.

 

"Arrogant," Louis said. "Rude. Just what you'd expect."

 

Hank bit his lip.

 

"Has he asked to meet me? What if he wants to sack me?"

 

Louis chuckled.

 

"Trust me, Hank, if there's anybody he wants to let go, it's me."

 

"You did punch him," Hank reminded. "Not the best thing to do to your new boss..."

 

Louis sighed. He didn't share the reason for his violence with his colleague because he wasn't 100% certain Hank knew he was gay. He wasn't sure anybody knew that about him really because he didn't exactly advertise it. He thought that perhaps his complete disinterest in the girls in town might speak volumes but a man could never tell. Penny Jukes from the neighbouring farm had invited him to dinner with her daughter four times before she'd got the hint.

 

Louis had tried to explain it to her but she had assured him that she held no bad feeling toward him. Louis flicked a look to Hank and wondered if he should mention it, after all. He was probably being more obvious than he even knew.

 

"Good looking fella, though," Hank started up the conversation after a few moments of quiet.

 

Louis smirked. _Way more obvious_.

 

"Yeah. If you like guys in make up."

 

Hank smiled.

 

"Do you?"

 

Louis laughed, loud and stark.

 

"Jesus, Hank," he teased. "Give me some room to breathe."

 

Hank slapped him on the shoulder.

 

"Well? Do ya?"

 

Louis twisted his lips, lashes low until he looked up into the older-man's eyes. He had hazel eyes, kind and lined with laughter. He was thin and tall but he ate like a horse, Louis knew. They'd worked together for a few years now and he trusted the man implicitly.

 

"Maybe I do," Louis shared softly, looking around to make sure nobody else was about.

 

"Not just any guys in make up though," Hank went on, steering the crane to the next branch. "I mean Chester's down the social every Friday all prettied up and I ain't seen you hollering over him..."

 

Louis cackled, holding his tummy when it ached from laughing.

 

"Chester's not exactly doing it for me, Hank!"

 

"No?" Hank teased, knowing the older, slightly balding man probably didn't fit Louis' bill. "But the city hot-shot is..."

 

Just as Louis opened his mouth to say something- something to _disagree_ with that statement of course, another voice cut across him; loud and clear in the orchard.

 

"The city hot shot is what?" Harry asked, folding his arms and settling himself into place underneath them.

 

Louis peeked over the edge. He was wearing a white shirt and what looked to be a pair of short black denim shorts; his legs bare but for some expensive-looking loafers with rainbows on the tongues. A fine-knit khaki green sweater topped the lot; a contrast to his shorts which Louis found amusing.

 

"Is very annoying," Louis called, busying himself with blooms, making sure to pluck them and throw them into Harry's hair.

 

Harry stepped out of the way.

 

"Actually I came to see how the orchard works," he called. "Since I'm responsible for keeping Uncle Tom's precious business from going under. You could have given me the heads-hey!" Harry stumbled away as more petals rained down. "I have hay-fever you know!" He added haughtily.

 

Louis smirked, throwing more flowers down.

 

Harry shook his hair out, running his fingers into the thick mass to push it away from his eyes as he looked back up, brows drawn together.

 

Louis fiddled with the flowers in his hands, idling.

 

"What were you saying?" Louis asked. "I couldn't hear properly..."

 

"This place is on it's last legs!" Harry accused. "You must have known!"

 

Louis paused then, eyes flicking to Hank. Hank went to the edge of the platform.

 

"Tom never spoke to us about the profits," Hank explained. "We split everything three ways when we sold at market."

 

"Fucking hell," Harry muttered, scraping his loafer-toe in the grass.

 

Louis slipped the petals from his hand to his pocket, sliding under the barrier and climbing down the neck of the crane; to the obvious distress of Harry who moved about underneath him in case he fell.

 

Louis landed with a satisfied thud on his feet in front of him.

 

"Calm down, Curly," he teased. "I'm a country boy, remember?"

 

"Why do you keep bringing that up?" Harry arched. "What difference does it make?"

 

Louis shrugged with an innocent press of his lips.

 

"Nothing. Just that you know shit about farming and yet you're telling me the business plan is bad..."

 

Harry's face flushed with anger.

 

"He under-sold, Louis," Harry pulled out a folded piece of paper, some kind of production estimate. "He was supposed to make twice what he was selling the fruit for. Why would he do that? Knowingly under price the produce?"

 

Louis' eyes lifted, for the first time settling on the green pair of his enemy and searching their depths.

 

"Look," Harry insisted, pointing to the arch on the graph, showing Tom's calculated income.

 

Louis hadn't been taught business, he didn't know what it all meant.

 

"Can you teach me to read it?" He asked.

 

He was surprised to find Harry's gaze burning a hole in his chest. He didn't have an impressive chest, he was more wiry strength than brawn. But something about his torso was interesting to the new boy because he looked a little flustered at being caught looking.

 

Louis smirked. _Sweetest peach_. How could he forget?

 

He jutted a hip.

 

"I could do that," Harry replied slowly, cautious.

 

Louis nodded, dipping his hand into his pocket.

 

"Put your hand out."

 

Harry's gaze narrowed immediately, flicking to his face.

 

"Why what will you do?"

 

Louis grinned, rolling his eyes.

 

"Come on, it won't hurt I promise..."

 

Harry hesitantly put his hand forward, cupping it palm-upward.

 

Louis emptied the flower-heads into his palm.

 

"You can make a flower crown with those," he suggested with a smile. "It'd match your eye shadow."

 

//

 

Harry stormed into the house, throwing the door open so hard that it banged against the wall. Margaret startled, turning with a hand to her heart.

 

"Oh Harry, dear, it's you..."

 

"That man is-"

 

"Who?" Margaret asked, going over to shut the door and squeeze Harry's arm. "Who are you talking about dear?"

 

"Louis!" He spat. "He's a fucking bigot!"

 

Margaret spluttered, her laughter becoming evident in the following moments.

 

Harry felt mildly offended.

 

"I'm glad I could amuse you," Harry muttered as he grasped the table in clenched hands.

 

Margaret rubbed his back.

 

"I'm sorry darling it's just that...well Louis' gay," she explained gently. "I think that means he can't be a bigot..."

 

"Then why does he keep-?" Harry exasperated; stunned by the news.

 

"Keep what, dear?"

 

"Keep calling me _city boy_ and _hot shot_ and today he gave me flowers to make a crown! A fucking flower-crown!" He yelled, twisting and spinning dramatically to pace the room.

 

Margaret watched him with a purse of her lips. She waited for him to calm down.

 

"There aren't many boys around here you know. Not nice ones. Maybe he likes you?"

 

Harry rolled his eyes and leaned into Margaret's touch. She had started stroking his hair and now he found it soothing.

 

"Have I changed very much, Aunt Margaret?"

 

Margaret hummed, holding him close.

 

"You're home now. That's all that matters."

 

Harry sighed and wrapped his arms around her middle.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely people, hope you are all okay?
> 
> Ang

The Barn Dance wasn't a joke, apparently. Although Zayn had warned him that would be his life in the country, Harry hadn't quite believed it somehow, until he _saw_ it that is.

 

He'd gone blatantly flamboyant for the event in a red checked shirt, tight black jeans, some black glittered pointed boots and red lipstick with false lashes. He was never one to shy away from oppression and judgement. Let the town talk about the guy who wore make-up, he didn't care.

 

He winked at a particularly burly-looking cowboy and blew him a red-lipped kiss. To his shock, the guy winked back. Harry smiled and slinked his way further into the room, escorting Margaret to a seat.

 

Louis and Hank were following behind; the latter wearing a faded plaid shirt and worn jeans with beat-up cowboy boots and a Stetson on his head that had seen better days. Louis, surprisingly, had avoided the stereotype of plaid altogether and Harry's eyes had almost popped out on stalks when he'd come down the stairs in tight jeans with plimsolls and a band-tee-shirt clinging to his curves.

 

"Aren't you getting dressed?" He'd asked.

 

Louis had smirked.

 

"This is what I wear, Harold. Not all of us are redneck cowboys."

 

Harry had followed him out to the truck with a confused pout, mostly from not realising a country boy could also be-

 

Well, _so damn fuckable_ , to be frank.

 

He wanted to sink his teeth into Louis' sweet peach more than he'd like to admit.

 

When he leaned over at the bar to order their drinks, a hand slid onto his behind and he turned, half-delighted at the change in events between him and Louis until _Not_ - _Louis_ came into focus.

 

"Hey, cowboy," a warm, female voice begun, her smile faltering slightly when she clocked his make-up.

 

"I go both ways," he told her candidly, eyes flicking over her blonde hair.

 

The hand disappeared off his ass.

 

"Er, maybe another time," she murmured and scampered off to her friends.

 

Harry rolled his eyes and sighed out; leaning further over to flash his cleavage at the bar-man. Maybe he only liked girls.

 

"Your peach not fuzzy enough?" Louis asked, lifting his chin to have the bar-man instantly head over for his order.

 

"Yes, Lou, what can I get you?"

 

Harry watched him with annoyance.

 

"Hey, I was here first..."

 

The barman gave him the once over, his spiky blonde-tipped hair fluffy-looking.

 

"I serve by familiarity, not order of arrival." He stated.

 

"That's completely unprofessional," Harry started, only to be laughed at by Louis and the bar-keep.

 

"Harry, meet Niall. My best friend from school. Niall, this is the hot-shot taking over the business from Tom..."

 

Harry narrowed his eyes at Louis but extended his hand to Niall.

 

"Nice to meet you. But I'm not a-"

 

"Love your lippy by the way," Niall interrupted. "I think all the girls are jealous they can't get theirs on that well..."

 

Harry tugged a reluctant smile onto his lips.

 

"Pretty sure they're holding their own well enough."

 

"So, you're into guys?" Niall asked.

 

Louis stared at him and shook his head.

 

Harry smirked.

 

"A bit of both, actually."

 

"Only, my friend Louis here, he's been single since time began and-"

 

"For fuck's sake, Ni," Louis interrupted, reaching across the bar to twist his nipple between a finger and thumb. "I don't need dating help, thank you very much!"

 

Harry bit his lip, arching a brow at Louis as Niall went about making their drinks.

 

"Not found the right guy then?" Harry asked.

 

He flicked his curls away from his eyes where they tended to fall. He ran his hand through the back of his buzzed-short hair.

 

"Not really," Louis avoided looking at him, gaze flitting around the room.

 

"A guy winked at me coming in, don't think your choices are that slim," he mused.

 

Louis cleared his throat, hands resting on the bar-edge, his thumbnail working to chip off the varnish.

 

"Well, it's not quite that simple is it?" Louis breathed, so quiet Harry almost missed it. He edged closer, curious.

 

"Isn't it?"

 

Louis kept his gaze between his thumbs, lips twisting.

 

"Why do you want to know, anyway? Thought you wanted to fuck anyone that was interested?"

 

Harry pulled back at the accusation; the words burning a hole in him the way Louis intended. He hated that people thought that about him but he hated even more that _he_ made them think that about him, from his actions and his words. If he was only honest about what he was looking for, about what he _wanted_...

 

Then he might even find love. And that scared him because he'd thought he'd been in love once before but he'd been mistaken and how would he truly know, then? How would he know whether the next person would be his _one_ because he couldn't trust his instincts and what else did he have?

 

"Never mind," Harry mumbled and pushed himself off the bar, turning to join Margaret at the table.

 

//

 

The blonde girl liked to dance.

 

Jacqueline was her name- or Jackie, as Harry had learned.

 

He might have let her kiss the red lipstick from his lips and smudge his eye-make up with her thumbs as she'd sat in his lap while they made out. He might have stumbled home in the dark on his own, sobering up quickly in the cold night air; half-lost in the wilderness and finally finding the posts that signalled the entry to the farm, the lush sweep of wind in the leaves washing over him with rustling familiarity.

 

He breathed in the sweet scent of the bloom, a smile playing about his lips.

 

Finally he made it into the kitchen- thankfully left unlocked- and worked his boots off his poor, sore feet. He dropped them quietly onto the mat and tiptoed to fetch water despite the house being dark and quiet.

 

He selected a glass carefully from the overhead cupboard, shh'ing himself when it clanked noisily against the glass beside it. The fact he had to shush himself made him hiss out a giggle, pressing the back of his hand against his lips to mute his laughter.

 

He swung around when he heard a noise, glass slipping right from his careful fingertips and shattering spectacularly against the cold, red tiles that made up the kitchen floor.

 

"Shit!" He gasped, pressing a palm to his chest as his heart stopped beating and then stuttered back into life heavily; Louis' small, sleep-softened form hovering there in the doorway.

 

Well until the glass smashed to smithereens and then he jerked into motion.

 

"Don't move, lush," Louis told him.

 

Harry sagged back against the counter and tried to absorb enough oxygen to survive.

 

"Why are you creeping around?!" Harry accused. "Jesus, you almost killed me!"

 

Louis had slipped on some sneakers and grabbed a dustpan with a brush to sweep up the mess while Harry wilted; letting the weight of his body drag him down.

 

"Hey, be careful there!" Louis quickly darted over to grasp Harry's upper arms, directing him onto a patch of the tiled floor where glass wasn't prevalent. "How much did you drink anyway?"

 

Harry rolled his eyes, knocking his head back derisively only to bang it a little too hard against the cupboard door.

 

"Ouch," he whispered, swallowing as he lifted a hand to rub into his short hair, a pout forming on his lips. "What's it to you?" He added with a narrowed flick of his eyes towards Louis.

 

"Surprised you even made it back," Louis muttered as he cleaned up the broken shards.

 

Harry studied his fingertips, picking off the varnish resolutely, eyes watery with tiredness.

 

"Took me a while," he admitted sullenly.

 

"Should have left with us," Louis pointed out, sliding the broken glass into the trash can and looking over his shoulder at Harry; still collapsed on the floor.

 

"Wanted to have a good time," Harry accused lowly as Louis padded towards him.

 

He was wearing checked pyjama trousers and a soft t-shirt and he smelled like honeysuckle. He sniffed delicately as Louis bent over him.

 

"What're you doing?" He asked, lifting his arms cluelessly.

 

"Up," Louis tightened his arms under Harry's and circled his chest, hauling him upright.

 

"Alright, think I can manage," Harry huffed of the unexpected manoeuvre, almost toppling over when Louis let go to step away. He gripped the counter behind him fiercely, chewing his upper lip while Louis stared.

 

Louis' eyes seemed to focus to the left of his face slightly, a smile twisting onto his lips. Harry bathed in its broken beauty. (Harry would later discover a lipstick smudge on his collar.)

 

"See you had a good time after all." He remarked softly.

 

Harry watched as Louis twisted to walk away, but there were so many words whirling around his head that none of them spilled onto his tongue. He wouldn't describe his night as 'good' at all. The furthest thing from good really, considering the blonde had palmed his dick for a full half hour and he hadn't had any reaction yet the other day watching Louis walk around in tight trousers had him harder than he'd ever been in his life. He really didn't understand his body sometimes.

 

He closed his eyes and squeezed them tightly shut in regret as he heard Louis' light footsteps climbing the stairs.

 

//

 

Harry was cradling a hot coffee the next morning when Louis came in for his mid-morning break.

 

Dana was coddling him, cooking pancakes and cutting up what looked like a fruit salad. Louis entered the kitchen with a raised brow, indignant that the city boy was getting such positive treatment after quite frankly, despicable behaviour.

 

"Awake before noon, never thought I'd see the day..."

 

Harry eyed Louis distrustfully.

 

"I'm not a sloth."

 

Louis turned from pouring himself a glass of fresh tap water to glug down the liquid, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth with a satisfied smack of his lips andÂ  a sigh.

 

"The men round here _work_ , princess," Louis pointed out. "What have you got done so far today?"

 

Dana gave Louis a reproachful look.

 

"I remember plenty of times you an' Hank rolled in a coupla hours before you had to haul ass," she mused.

 

"Yeah, Louis," Harry echoed childishly. "Practice what you preach..."

 

Louis laid his glass to the side and stormed over, fist thumping the table by Harry's hand. He flinched, snatching his hand out of the way, quivering with wide eyes until his brows drew together in annoyance.

 

"What is your problem?"

 

Louis laughed, bitter and short.

 

"You got gifted this place and you've no idea what you have...to you it's an annoyance, a game to play and win. It's _our_ livelihoods," Louis gestured to Dana, grasping his vest to signal himself. "It's our whole _lives_."

 

Harry glared at him, feeling the weight of that responsibility plunge into his chest, strong and hard. He felt the fear of rejection flood him, the probably likelihood that he would fail. Not because he couldn't do this, but because Tom hadn't left him an easy task and-

 

And he _could_ tell Louis that, he could be honest and show him how bucking scared he really felt but Harry wasn't used to showing his fear. He was ingrained, almost, to front it out.

 

He swallowed down his soft reassurances, tightening his jaw.

 

"You must live a very sad life, then," he murmured, scraping back his chair to turn and trudge away from the table.

 

//

 

 

"I'm worried about Louis..."

 

Harry had been at the house for a total of two weeks, now.

 

He'd been caught on the landing once after his shower; skin glistening, one tiny towel around his hips and one turban-style in his hair. He'd also found Louis making cocoa with the little marsh-mallows one night, when he couldn't sleep and both times the smaller man had avoided looking at him and had moved out of his way.

 

Harry didn't like that Louis felt uncomfortable around him. He could accept that Louis dismissed him as a city boy and he'd had to approach Hank to show him the basics of their routine in place of Louis; but to avoid him completely was- well, it was somewhat Harry's own fault for baiting the guy and he couldn't explain even to himself why he kept doing it.

 

He looked at Margaret.

 

"He'll be okay," he assured.

 

She sighed stressfully.

 

"He thinks I don't see it. His hurt. He tries to hide it from me. But who else has he got?" She beseeched.

 

Harry licked his lips.

 

"What about Niall? Or Hank?"

 

"Hank has his own family," she shared. "He does the job and goes home. Niall comes by but I don't see them talking about it...I don't see him opening up..."

 

"Maybe he's not ready," Harry suggested.

 

"He'll burn himself out," she beseeched, checking the clock. It was well past dark and Harry knew Louis would be out there until at least midnight.

 

He'd often hear him come in and listen to his journey through the house, letting his imagination flourish with the sounds of the shower. In those moments he'd stroke himself off; biting his pillow to tame his moans.

 

He hated himself for masturbating to the thought of the petite man but his mind kept conjuring the images, wet or dry, neat in a suit or ruffled and dirty.

 

One afternoon he'd indulged in the shower, hand slick with lube and only the bathroom walls to echo his pleasure. He'd knocked his toes against the rim of the shower base when he'd finished; towel pooled messily on the mat to pick up later, after his no doubtedly required second, cold shower after Louis had come in.

 

Louis rushed in through the kitchen and past him up the stairs where he'd been casually laying in wait on the sofa to trick him into talking and Harry barely had time to open his mouth to vocalise any warning about the state of the bathroom before-

 

"What the _fuck_?!"

 

Harry closed his glossy magazine with a gulp. _Shit_.

 

He could hear Louis' low, mumbling voice, the huffed annoyance and-

 

"Hey, hot-shot! Get up here!"

 

Harry slowly swung his legs off the sofa and stood, pulling down his white shirt with a blue-pencil drawing print.

 

"Coming!" He called brightly, biting his lip as he deftly loped up the stairs.

 

"What's this?" Louis lunged at him with a tube, pointing it at his face in a sword-like fashion.

 

"Erm-"

 

"I mean, I know what it is!" Louis added, cheeks flushed with colour, his anger mottling the skin of his chest. Harry couldn't help the way his eyes dipped there, tongue licking over his bottom lip.

 

Louis seemed to notice because he glared even harder.

 

"Can you keep your fucking lube to yourself?" He ground out, slapping it against Harry's chest.

 

"Mind the shirt," Harry darted the tube away from his designer favourite, brushing away the sticky liquid.

 

His eyes fell to the floor and suddenly everything became clear. Louis' foot was curled up, toes tucked underneath almost and something globbed stickily over his foot.

 

"You trod on it," Harry blinked, choking back a laugh. He couldn't help the throaty giggle that pealed out of his throat.

 

"I cut my hand," Louis stated then with a glower, turning back towards the sink. "And then your fucking lube nearly sent me flying..."

 

Harry's laughter bubbled away. He peered around Louis' shoulder to try and see.

 

"Are you okay? Do you need-?"

 

"I'm fine," Louis turned his shoulder away from Harry's enquiring gaze, shielding his injury.

 

Harry nodded, lips pressing together until he released them with a small sigh.

 

"Sorry, Louis," he stated earnestly with a swallow, biting his lip as he waited for Louis to turn.

 

Louis didn't turn.

 

"I really am sorry," he whispered before he turned to go.

 

//

 

 

On the back of Margaret's concern and his first failed attempt at talking to Louis, Harry waited up late one night for the older man to come from his extended work hours.

 

Certain that he was the last person Louis would confide in, he'd snuggled down on the sofa that was quickly becoming his second home and after a couple of (generous) Baileys and some late-night talk shows, he'd drifted off.

Sometime later, he heard a noise, though, and his awareness focused on finding it and recognising what it was.

 

The house was quiet but not completely still, signalling that someone somewhere was active; was living and breathing and moving about, maybe.

 

Harry slid off the sofa in his tight jeans and yellow jumper, walking sleepily pin-toed around the house.

 

The light in the downstairs bathroom was on. He headed for it, laying his glass gently on the kitchen table. The door was half-open and he peeked inside, not sure what he would find.

 

 _Louis_.

 

Oh god-

 

Louis was _crying_. Strong, mean, sour-mouthed Louis. The Louis who threw blossoms in his hair and told him to _get the fuck out_...he was there on the bathroom floor with his back propped to the bath, tears streaming down his face.

 

He opened his mouth to speak, to signal his presence but that was enough to make Louis aware of him standing there, rooted to the spot.

 

The smaller man got up quickly and ducked his head, barrelling towards the door to glance by Harry's body (or plain knock him out of the way) but Harry caught him; in strong arms and held tight.

 

Harry worked out, too. Maybe not in orchards, but he had his own strength to boast about and he felt stupid now for the times he may have done just that because what did it matter? What did it matter when someone was falling apart and-

 

"Louis, it's okay," he said, eyes wide with startled disbelief.

 

 _Louis was crying_.

 

"Let me go," he gasped, trying to fight free.

 

"Shh," Harry pressed his cheek into his hair, hoping it would soothe him. "It's okay. I won't hurt you."

 

Louis weakened into heart-felt sobs, his body going lax and heavy. Harry had to do most of the work to keep him upright but Louis eventually relaxed into his hold, sniffling quietly as his tears abated.

 

He reached for some toilet roll and Harry uncurled his arms to free him.

 

"I can't let her hear me, I'm her rock you know?" Louis whispered.

 

Harry's mouth opened but nothing came out.

 

Louis looked at him, eyes bloodshot and lips trembling.

 

He didn't know what to say. He wasn't good at this, he didn't say the right things and sometimes he said completely the wrong things to cover up a truth he was afraid to say out loud. He let his long fingers slide onto Louis' wrist; gliding up his forearm, his other hand turning Louis' palm upwards to bare the ratty bandage.

 

"Is your hand really okay?" He asked.

 

Louis blinked at him, surprised by his question it seemed.

 

"I'll be fine," Louis tried to pull his hand away but Harry stepped in closer, arms curling already to capture him. It hadn't been long enough, before. It hadn't been anywhere near enough.

 

Harry could stand here and hold Louis all night and he figured it might not be enough. He felt lovely in his arms, all small and-- _compliant_. He felt Louis huff before he gave into the hug for a second time.

 

"I'm alright now," Louis stated anyway.

 

Harry glided his hand over Louis' back.

 

"Shh," He commanded softly.

 

The surprising part was, Louis listened.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys
> 
> Is anyone out there wanting to be a beta reader? Who can help soundboard ideas? Someone who can commit to the task (although I understand not everything will be instant). I have lost my muse and I'm struggling :( If anyone thinks they can help please let me know!
> 
> Ang

 

The next day, Harry went on an afternoon escapade to find Louis and force him to eat lunch; a picnic packed into his ruck-sack. Margaret had all but talked him into it and despite his misgivings he had trekked out in his bleach-splodged jeans and blue striped jumper, his feet bare, daring to take on the undergrowth of the orchard. His boots just felt a little too tight lately; a little too flimsy to wear on the farm.

 

"Louis?" He called as he walked through the dappled shade of the trees, the branches quiet of birdsong, protected by netting and regularly treated with earth-friendly pesticides. He knew that because Hank had told him.

 

Hank had told him about Tom's dedication to an organic practice. He'd told him about his plans to branch out and not just sell the peaches but to pickle them himself in large jars with a printed sticker. He'd told him about his weakness for being haggled at market; something that might explain the profit-loss on the balance sheets.

 

Harry had learned a lot but he still needed to know how to turn things around. They were practically running at a loss and he didn't know how he was going to pay the two men for their work. He needed to ask Louis for his input and help, as much as it pained him.

 

It pained him almost as much as not being able to go home yet, one of his usual stylist jobs given out to one of his rivals. He hated the idea of someone else stealing his place but his perfectionism wouldn't let him leave until the farm was turning profit again. He might love clothes but he loved winning, more.

 

"Hey...Lou?" He called again, squinting into the distance.

 

"Yes, Harold?"

 

A rustling sounded behind him and he swung round; a pair of tanned legs dangling down from a branch.

 

"Oh. There you are."

 

"Yes, here I am. Now what?"

 

Harry shrugged.

 

"I brought lunch."

 

"Ah. Margaret sent you," he guessed easily.

 

Harry sighed, scuffing his bare toe in the soft peat.

 

"I came because I wanted to. Because I need to talk to you."

 

The branch bounced and Louis disappeared, appearing at the trunk seconds later and shuffling down; leaping the last few feet. He came over, eyes on the ground.

 

"No Gucci loafers today?" He mused.

 

Harry shook his head.

 

"Just my ugly toes."

 

Louis tilted his head.

 

"I've seen worse."

 

"Yeah?" Harry arched a brow, slipping one hip out in a pose he was comfortable with.

 

"Yeah, you worry too much. Country boys like ugly feet," he stated with a smirk.

 

Harry smiled tentatively, meeting his gaze. Louis smiled back.

 

"Why are you avoiding me?"

 

"Because," Louis said, brushing by him to lead him to a nice spot by one of the trees; stealing the blanket laid across Harry's arm and flapping it out.

 

"Because what," Harry prompted.

 

"Because you didn't come here to comfort me," he mused wistfully. "You came to fix the business. So I'm letting you." he shrugged. "Fix the business." He added.

 

Louis sat down, knees bending to loop his arms around. His eyes narrowed as he looked into the clearing just yonder.

 

Harry sat down beside him.

 

"I'm not just a brat you know."

 

Harry began to unpack the food.

 

Louis looked at him, surprised.

 

"You're not?" He teased with the flicker of a smile.

 

Harry rolled his eyes, undoing the cap of a mini bottle of wine. He poured a bit into each of their plastic glasses. Louis smiled at his gesture.

 

"No, I'm actually a human being, too," Harry continued of his confession.

 

"You didn't seem like one the day of the funeral," Louis sipped his wine and flicked him a look.

 

Harry nodded in acceptance.

 

"I wasn't that day, I agree."

 

Louis turned a bit, crossing his legs to rifle through the goodies.

 

"You must be hungry," Louis passed him the large sandwich and snuck a pork pie.

 

Harry split the sandwich and handed half back to Louis.

 

"So what's the deal?" Louis asked.

 

"The deal?" Harry posed. Did Louis mean with _him_? Did he want to-

 

"With the farm," Louis clarified. Harry's heart sank a bit but it began to thud at a reasonable rate instead of the racing pace it lately had the tendency to take up around the other man.

 

He swallowed.

 

"Tom was under-pricing. I think he felt pressured by the buyers. When we take this year's crop to market we have to stick to our guns."

 

Louis nodded.

 

"How bad is it?"

 

Harry smiled, but it was sad and weak.

 

"Honestly? I don't know how I'm going to pay two men for the next four months..."

 

Louis' gaze slipped to his, eyes wide.

 

"There's nothing left?"

 

Harry grimaced.

 

"After the standard expenses...we're going to struggle. Unless you know of another way we can bring in revenue until the peaches drop..."

 

Louis' mouth opened, his sandwich forgotten.

 

"Fuck."

 

Harry nibbled on his crust.

 

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to come here and bring bad news."

 

Louis glanced at him. He shuffled a bit, rubbing a hand across Harry's shoulders.

 

"Hey, don't blame yourself for this. Tom knowingly undersold the stock and he knew-"

 

Louis broke off, his voice breaking.

 

"Fuck...I wonder if that's why he had a heart attack? The stress was just too much."

 

Harry let his gaze settle on Louis, feeling protective over the smaller man despite being the younger of them both.

 

"I won't leave until I know you'll be okay."

 

Louis gave a bemused smile.

 

"Just me?"

 

"I mean-" Harry blushed, looking away. "You know, the farm. _Everyone_ ," he added quickly.

 

Louis dropped his gaze with a knowing twist of his lips.

 

"Of course. Everyone."

 

Harry watched him for a moment, curiosity threading through his veins. Louis hated him. He shouted at him and told him off and yet-

 

Why did he almost look disappointed at Harry's words? Why did he almost look _rejected_?

 

"So I guess you'll be gone once you've evened things out?" Louis asked carefully, lifting his eyes to squint into the sunlight, pupils focusing on Harry.

 

"I guess," Harry said, not feeling like that was the truth.

 

He saw Louis nod from the corner of his eyes as he fiddled with the cuff of his jeans.

 

"Nice shade," Louis offered of his new jade green nail varnish.

 

"Thanks," Harry swallowed, flicking him a tiny smile.

 

"They need a shade that matches your eyes..."

 

Harry blinked.

 

"I don't think could make a shade that matches yours."

 

Louis smiled, shoulders loosening. His lips pursed as his eyes sparkled mischievously, like he wasn't quite sure if Harry was for real.

 

"Will you show me the books?" He asked instead.

 

Harry swallowed and nodded, flicking his disappointed eyes away.

 

 

 

//

 

"See how the graph dips?" Harry pointed to the sheet on the desk, leaning over Louis' shoulder to illustrate his point. "The farm has been operating in negative equity for two whole summers..."

 

Louis sucked in a breath.

 

"How did we even have a hope..." he murmured.

 

Harry shrugged, moving away.

 

Louis looked over his shoulder, missing the closeness. Harry smelled liked frosting from the child-like cookies he had baked and iced that afternoon, happily decorating them with sprinkles.

 

Louis was certain he would never get to see a city boy take such pleasure in a simple task like that again.

 

The cookies had even tasted incredible; something of a surprise although it really shouldn't have been. Harry dressed-and looked- impeccable. There wasn't much chance of anything he turned his hand to being a failure.

"Margaret never told me how you came to work here..." Harry was tidying away his papers, apparently closed on the subject of the farm books for now.

 

Louis peeked at him.

 

"I was sixteen and I'd just been thrown out of home for being gay," Louis offered all in a rush, disconnected from the words tripping off his tongue.

 

Harry turned to look at him a frown wrinkling his pretty features.

 

"What?"

 

Louis shrugged.

 

"My parents beat the shit outta me for not being what they wanted and it just so happened that the hay barn was warm and dry and a nice place to sleep."

 

"Louis..."

 

"I worked," Louis' eyes flashed to his, determination showing in those blue depths. "I didn't take advantage of anything I was given."

 

Harry rolled his eyes and drifted closer, hip hitching against the edge of the desk.

 

"I didn't think you had."

 

"You-"

 

"I say a lot of stupid things," Harry cut over him. "In case you hadn't noticed..."

 

Louis chuckled lightly, spinning around in his chair with a grin, his thighs widening.

 

"I'm not going to correct you."

 

"I know," Harry's lashes flickered a bit in hurt. "I don't expect your forgiveness, either."

 

Louis made a face, knee nudging Harry's thigh as he leaned forward, fingers tugging at Harry's sleeve.

 

"Don't be a drama-queen, you're not on the cat-walk now..."

 

"I told you, I'm more than that," Harry stared at him, letting his jumper sleeves gulf his hands. Louis' fingers tightened around his wrist gently.

 

"I know you are," he offered softly. "I just don't understand why you hide it."

 

Harry tilted his head, lips jutting. He bit into the lower one, leaning closer towards the vee of Louis' thighs. He wanted to say out loud how frightened he was. How he felt like he had no-one to catch him should he fall. He wanted to say that parties and backstage orgies were what life was about but he knew that the opposite was true. Curling up on an old sofa with marshmallows in his cocoa and going to sleep alone out-rated all of those nights fucking strangers in places he couldn't even remember fucking them

 

He wanted to say how beautiful Louis was, how safe he made Harry feel with just one look, one brush of his fingers like right now, circled around his wrist as though Harry belonged to him. He kind of _wanted_ to belong to him.

 

He wanted-

 

 _Jesus_.

 

He wanted to kiss him. Softly, like rain falling in dewy grass; weighing down the blades with sweet wetness. He wanted to lick into his mouth and earn a growl, or a whine, whatever sound it was that Louis made when he was pleasured. Harry hoped he'd get to hear that sound one day.

 

"Louis..." He leaned closer still, body bowing in magnetic response to Louis' big eyes batting up at him only--

 

A distant tinkling sound brought Louis from the moment slowly; the persistent loud high pitched noise ruining his concentration..

 

"Harry-something..."

 

"Fuck!" Harry's head shot up, cheeks flushing in mortification of what he'd been about to do.

 

Louis gasped for a whole other reason, jumping to his feet.

 

"It's the warning bell! That means something's wrong!"

 

"Shit," Harry staggered backwards to let Louis pass, looking up and expecting to find Louis already disappearing through the office doorway.

 

Louis was waiting, hand outstretched for his to grasp.

 

"Come on, hot-shot," he teased warmly with a soft voice that Harry wanted to hear more of.

 

Harry smiled humbly, his dimples flashing.

 

He watched as Louis' expression melded into a worried frown on the journey out to the porch

 

//

 

Louis and Harry found Margaret and Hank at the helm, speaking in hurried, panicked tones.

 

"What's going on?" Louis asked, not missing the way Margaret's gaze ran over their hands before they let go of each other.

 

"The sprinkler system broke down again," Margaret explained breathlessly. "It must have packed up last night but we didn't know until just now."

 

"They've gone a whole twelve hours without water," Hank added quietly.

 

"Hank, did you check the-"

 

"Mains, yes," Hank nodded to Louis. "I just went through all the preliminary checks. It's not one of the components that's the problem. It's the motor."

 

"Fuck!" Louis kicked at the sand in the drive and ran exasperated fingers into his hair. "We can't get one of those for at least three days and it's going to cost-"

 

"I'll pay for it," Harry cut in, face grave.

 

Margaret gave him a sorrowful look.

 

"You don't need to do that, Harry, we'll manage somehow, it's just-"

 

"I can pay for it," he said again. "I have more than enough saved up. Hank, can you get it ordered if I give you my credit card?"

 

Hank nodded and led Harry inside. He stumbled out a few minutes later, a pair of beaten purple converse on his feet.

 

"How can I help?" He asked Louis who was pale and shaking and looked completely lost.

 

"I don't know," Louis whispered, tears in his eyes. "I don't know what to do! Tom used to-"

 

"Hey," Harry stepped closer and grasped his upper arms gently. "Look at me. You can do this. Just think for a minute. If Tom was here...what would he do?"

 

Louis swallowed.

 

"He'd...he'd water the orchard manually with hoses."

 

"Okay," Harry nodded. "How many do we need?"

 

"I think--it can take six, the splitter. There's a tap out in the field and-"

 

"I'll get the hoses," Harry assured, turning to run towards the store shed.

 

Louis looked to Margaret helplessly.

 

"He's good in a crisis, isn't he?" She observed bemusedly.

 

Louis looked bewildered as Harry ran back, arm muscles bulging with all six hoses, his legs still wrapped in those dark blue jeans with white splodges.

 

"You sure you don't want to change?" Louis said. "You'll ruin your designer clothes..."

 

Harry huffed out a chuckle, his grin going wide.

 

"Jesus, Louis I'm trying to save your damn peaches!" He laughed.

 

Louis felt a spark of life ignite in him and he smiled back.

 

"Okay," he nodded, taking a deep breath. "Okay, let's go save some trees..."

 

Harry jogged after him into the orchard.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your support. Please DM me an twitter if you want to help me beta. @angkeats
> 
> Thanks

 

Hank and Niall came out to help them; with the neighbouring farmer, Roger adding into the mix when he found out. The trees needed at least an hour of water before they could rest for the night and it was an arduous task.

 

Towards the end, they started splashing each other, Harry and Louis instigating giggling chasing games through the corridors of trees, the long grass brushing their ankles.

 

It was dark when the others had gone home; when Margaret had called them in for a late supper and when Louis stood shivering, dripping wet while Harry stared at him looking like a drowned rat;; his wet hair weighed straight.

 

"How did you do that?" Louis asked.

 

"Do what?" Harry's eyes crossed as he focused on Louis.

 

"Took charge like that, I-"

 

"Diva models," Harry shrugged. "Just gotta get on with it sometimes..."

 

Louis' tongue flicked out to wet his lips, warming the cold skin as he took an unconscious step closer to Harry. His insides felt like they burned as he drew closer; heated by Harry's furnace. It would be easy, to tilt his head and lift his chin in offering. It would be easy to coax Harry's lush-looking lips into a kiss. His breath caught at the idea of it; eyes fluttering shut.

 

"Will you two get inside before you freeze to death!" Margaret bellowed into the night.

 

Louis stepped back with a jerk of reality, shaking his head free of the images that swarmed there. He avoided looking into Harry's face for fear of giving himself away. _He'd almost kissed Harry_. Beautiful, pretty, out-of-his-league Harry.

 

He flicked his eyes towards the gentle throat-clearing.

 

"Let's get warm and dry, Lou."

 

//

 

They had to water the trees for the next few days manually. The new motor was on the way but the trees had to be kept irrigated and even with Hank's attempts, they couldn't hook up another pump in the mean time.

 

It was a tiring few days, spent in a whirlwind of sleeping, eating and hosing the orchard. Often Louis felt like he was a walking zombie. He cried at night, in the small window between coming inside and waking at dawn. His heart ached for the loss of his father-figure and he couldn't hide it away.

 

Harry found him one of those nights, cuddled him down on the floor by the bath and coaxed him back to bed. But instead of leaving, instead of going back to his own room, he spooned up behind him in Louis' double and wrapped his arms around him, nuzzling into the back of his neck.

 

"You'd like my apartment in New York," Harry whispered as Louis fidgeted, trying to relax enough to sleep.

 

"Yeah?"

 

"It has a four-post bed," Harry shared.

 

Louis smiled, settling in his arms.

 

"Sounds grandiose."

 

"It's romantic," Harry argued petulantly, tiredly.

 

Louis picked up one of Harry's hands and surveyed his chipped nail varnish.

 

"You'll need a manicure, your friends won't recognise you..."

 

Harry snorted and burrowed his face in the back of Louis' hair.

 

"Shush, you..."

 

"It doesn't bother you?" Louis checked.

 

"Hm?"

 

"The change?"

 

Harry cleared his throat, lips brushing the back of Louis' neck thoughtfully, feet tangling with his.

 

"I mean, it'd be nice if _someone_ here would notice my brand new Dior boots but-"

 

Louis bit his lip against his grin, letting the breathy giggle escape that he was holding in. Harry hadn't heard him laugh before, hadn't seen him smile so wide.

 

"I'm being serious!"

 

Louis nodded solemnly with a hum.

 

"I'll work for free you know." Louis whispered.

 

Harry stilled, his breathing slow and steady. Louis wondered if he'd drifted off.

 

"I don't want you to have to do that," Harry said.

 

"I know but-"

 

"I can help," Harry said then, slow with his exhaustion. "I can take another job in New York and put it towards the running of the farm."

 

"But we need you here," Louis said.

 

Harry nodded.

 

"I know, Lou."

 

"Maybe there's a fashion house nearby?" Louis teased.

 

Harry blinked slowly, running his hand over Louis' arm until he relaxed again.

 

"You let me worry about that."

 

"Don't go," Louis mumbled before he fell asleep.

 

And Harry felt that same pain in his chest that he'd felt when he'd been sat front row at the New York show and realised he had nobody real to call his friend. And now he had more than one- apart from Louis he had Hank and Niall and his Aunt Margaret of course. He sighed. It hadn't taken long to fall in love with the countryside again, but it wasn't easy to just drop his life in New York and set up out there.

 

The fact that he wanted to; that his heart yearned for it, was enough to keep him awake thinking about it all.

 

//

 

While Louis and Hank were busy fixing some fencing that had given way and come down around the perimeter of the orchard, Harry found himself nosing around Margaret's kitchen.

 

When she found him there after coming downstairs from stripping the bedding for washing, she showed him her old cookbook and let him pick a recipe for dinner.

 

Harry decided to try simple macaroni cheese with chopped bacon on the top;  tying Margaret's pinny around his middle and favouring blue jeans and a grey t-shirt with a beanie to keep his hair neat. It was probably the slouchiest Harry had been dressed in his entire visit but it worked because he wasn't worrying about his wayward curls; or smudging his make up by accident.

 

"Does this look right?" He showed Margaret his pan of combined macaroni pasta and home-made cheese sauce.

 

"Looks good, darling," she smiled, getting up from her seat at the kitchen table where she'd started reading the local Tribune. "You need to put it in a dish and sprinkle some cheese on top with your bacon and brown it in the oven to finish it off..."

 

Harry nodded and patiently went about following her instructions carefully, concentrating on his task.

 

He was more used to composing clothes pieces and accessories than food ingredients but he was pretty sure it wasn't that difficult.

 

"Do you miss it?" Margaret asked as Harry happily grated more cheese for the top of his dish.

 

He looked over to the table.

 

"New York?"

 

"Your job," she clarified.

 

"Oh," He swallowed, wondering how she knew he'd been thinking about it. "Yeah...yeah, I do."

 

"And New York?" She asked next since he'd mentioned it.

 

"Not so much," he replied softly with a little smirk. "People are nicer here."

 

"You can help me find an outfit for the dance this week," she told him.

 

Harry grinned.

 

"It's that time again?"

 

Margaret chuckled as he slid the tray into the oven with his dish all ready to finish cooking placed on it.

 

"You don't have to come, you know."

 

Harry turned and leaned against the counter, tilting his head to focus on his Aunt.

 

"I know."

 

"But you want to," she said for him and he smiled.

 

"It's funny...in New York I was surrounded by thousands of people every day and yet-" He paused, taking a breath.

 

"You felt lonely in a crowd?" Margaret suggested.

 

Harry nodded, swallowing a thickness in his throat.

 

"Yeah."

 

Margaret got up again and walked toward him, Harry opening his arms to share her embrace.

 

"I'm sorry we lost touch," Margaret whispered.

 

Harry pressed his cheek into her hair.

 

"Missed you Auntie."

 

She squeezed him and let out a teary laugh.

 

"Missed seeing your curls and dimples around here," she teased.

 

Harry rolled his eyes as she pulled away.

 

"Do you have any idea how long it took me to be taken seriously in New York?"

 

She smiled and waved her hand to dismiss his joke.

 

"I bet they love you just like we do."

 

 _Love_.

 

Harry knew the family kind; he knew how it felt to be part of a unit. He didn't know how it felt to be loved romantically. His ex had never told him that she loved him and her cheating was a clear sign she hadn't ever felt that way. And he thought he'd loved her but getting to know these people and feeling a sense of belonging, a calling of home was something he had never felt before and yet-

 

If he hadn't _loved_ Katy then what _had_ he felt for her?

 

He frowned, lips pursing in serious contemplation.

 

They'd had great sex but the kissing wasn't all that. He'd felt more chemistry _near_ kissing Louis than he'd ever felt _actually_ kissing Katy.

 

And, well. It had already been established in the teenaged-like reaction his body had to Louis; as embarrassing and bewildering as that may be. He couldn't deny it. Sex with Louis would trump sex with his ex about a million times.

 

He wondered how Louis felt about it, about the nearly-kissing thing since Harry was pretty sure hadn't even _liked_ him much before that. It made his belly turn uneasily when he thought about leaving, about not having Louis around like he was now, sharing his bed like they had last night.

 

"Hey, what's this?"

 

Harry startled, head snapping up to focus on the voice; not coming from Margaret at the table but the doorway of the kitchen. In fact Margaret was no longer present and Harry frowned in confusion at the petite man who walked inside and shut the door gently behind him.

 

He'd taken off his checked shirt and wore a white wife-beater with his utility pants, his arms dirt-streaked like his face. His hair was wind-swept, soft and free of product. In New York, Harry would have wrinkled his nose and ached to make him over. Right now stood in his Aunt Margaret's country kitchen, his nostrils flared to breathe in the fresh-aired smell of him, grass and blossom tones over a distinct man-smell.

 

His heart-rate sped up and his body began to tingle in places he knew could be hard in a few minutes in his presence.

 

"I'm cooking," Harry said.

 

Louis lifted his chin.

 

"Oh."

 

"Macaroni and cheese..."

 

Louis blinked.

 

"That's my favourite."

 

Harry couldn't help his girlish smile; the flush in his cheeks from picking Louis' favourite without knowing.

 

"It's almost ready." Harry told him, fidgeting with the apron he wore, the frilled floral design suddenly feeling weird over his jeans and tee.

 

"You look...different," Louis' eyes assessed him between narrowed lashes.

 

Harry cleared his throat.

 

"I'm wearing normal clothes."

 

Louis walked further into the room, wiping his hands on the hem of his vest. Lifting the hem gave Harry a peek at his toned tummy; the bulge of his arms and the hollow in his collarbones. He swallowed as Louis came close.

 

"You seem different," Louis said, still a foot away. "Not just your clothes."

 

Harry smiled weakly.

 

"I've been thinking about things."

 

Louis' eyes darted to his, blue and stormy.

 

"Oh?"

 

"Thinking how I like it around here," he added quickly.

 

Louis nodded, letting out a breath.

 

"Around here likes you too."

 

Harry smiled then, biting his lip. He reached forward with one hand, curling a finger into Louis' trouser-loop, tugging gently.

 

Louis let his lips curve upwards as his hands flattened against the front of Harry's apron. The invitation was clear. Harry's hazy green eyes drew him in even if his own body didn't crave to be closer to Harry's heat; to his intoxicating scent.

 

"I'm sweaty and covered in filth," Louis murmured as Harry's arms slid around him, securing him within them.

 

Harry leaned forward and sniffed behind Louis' ear.

 

"I smell man," he murmured lowly.

 

Louis' breath caught and he turned his face as Harry did; their lips mere centimetres apart.

 

"Thought you liked clean boys and designer aftershave," his words were exceptionally soft.

 

Harry merely smirked as he leaned in.

 

"You thought wrong."

 

It was consuming, kissing him. It took over all of his senses and filled him with a deep, dark _want_. Harry pulled Louis impossibly closer and Louis widened his thighs for Harry to fit between them, small strong hands roaming over Harry's back as he took control of the kiss; tongue flicking into Harry's mouth.

 

"Hmm," Harry hummed his agreement to that action and pressed his thighs together to fit better between Louis' his whole body pushed back into the counter gently by Louis' weight.

 

Louis' fingers met his beanie and his butt simultaneously, crawling onto material to sneak underneath; to worm into the back of his hair and his underwear at the same time; a pleasured growl leaving Louis' throat as he broached both, his kiss deepening and his hands drawing Harry into him; grasping at his skin.

 

"Jesus," Harry broke away with a gasp as his dick sprung to life; his erection pressing into the front his blue jeans.

 

Louis nuzzled his nose; hands splaying over his butt cheek and the back of his head where he grasped him.

 

"I better get washed up," he husked, not moving even an inch to support his claim.

 

It was a silent question, Harry realised; an invite to take this further in the bedroom if they wished; or to end things now before it got too far. Harry swallowed, knowing he had to let Louis go because he just wasn't ready to-

 

"Dinner will be burned," Harry said, feeling as though they were talking in a code only they understood.

 

Louis stepped back even though Harry didn't loosen his hold. He felt him kiss his cheek.

 

"Be down in ten," Louis promised and slipped his hands from Harry's hair and jeans carefully, straightening his beanie and his apron before walking away.

 

Louis lifted his arm as he walked, wide-thighed, running a hand through his wind-swept hair, his bicep bulging enticingly with the move. Harry saw him express a sigh and felt it weigh down in his stomach; feeling guilt blanket him as he turned back to the stove.

 


	6. Chapter 6

They curled up on the sofa together that evening, Harry laid in Louis' lap as they watched late-night movies streaming on the TV. Margaret sat and read her book for a while before retiring to bed and it became a habit after that.

 

Harry would help Margaret with dinner, learning to cook in between working in the make-shift office he'd made of the downstairs utility room and Louis would lay on the sofa after dinner ready for Harry to crawl between his thighs.

 

"Louis?"

 

One night, it seemed, Harry couldn't sleep.

 

"Hm?"

 

Harry crept into his room, shutting the door with a click behind him. Louis felt the bed dip as Harry sat on and then rolled upon it. He felt Harry's lips press against his forehead.

 

"Lou, are you asleep?"

 

"No," Louis lied, yawning and burrowing his cheek into the pillow.

 

"You are," Harry settled in front of him, slipping an arm over his waist. "You need to sleep," he added with another kiss and so Louis slept.

 

When he woke, Harry was still there, in his bed, curled against his front cutely.

 

It was an image which was so far from Louis' first impression of the man that his heart almost beat out of his chest with wanting to keep him. He smiled and carefully wound his arms around him to pull him close.

 

"Love your new Gucci boots," he whispered.

 

Harry stretched and hummed, eyes opening to a sleepy grey-green that Louis was mesmerised by. He watched Harry's lips curve into a smile.

 

"How do you know they're new?" He mumbled, his voice deep and gravelly.

 

Louis lifted a brow.

 

"I haven't seen you wearing gold ones before."

 

Harry dimpled.

 

"They went down well at the dance."

 

Louis snickered, remembering the reactions of the patrons. Niall had danced with Harry to one of the country songs just so his boots got a proper outing. Louis had shied away from the dancing since he was aching from his days in the trees.

 

Louis Eskimo-kissed him.

 

Harry tilted his head and meshed their lips into a real kiss; savouring the feeling that surged inside; pulsing in his chest and between his thighs.

 

"Want so much with you," Harry murmured; pushing Louis onto his back and nestling himself against his front; between his thighs where he felt loved and protected.

 

Louis' kisses deepened and he held onto him tightly, hand splaying against his ass over his boxer-briefs. His fingers roamed up and down Harry's ass-cleft suggestively as they kissed; hair messy and skin flushed.

 

"Can you-" Harry sucked in a breath, swallowing it.

 

Louis leaned over to his bedside drawer unit and opened a drawer; pulling out a small bottle. He held it up for Harry to see. Lubricant.

 

Harry's eyes met his, open and trusting.

 

"Someone-" Harry swallowed, face creasing.

 

Louis waited.

 

"Someone tried to put something inside me once..."

 

"Something?" Louis questioned, feeling Harry's tension. When he leaned over him to look into his face; he saw the stain of a blush on his cheeks.

 

"Not their dick," Harry explained.

 

Louis turned him so they were facing, slipping an arm back around him and gently stroking his hair with the other.

 

"Did it hurt?"

 

Harry's throat clicked as he gave an aborted nod.

 

"Who did that, Harry?" Louis beseeched. "Fuck, I'm so sorry," he pressed a kiss to Harry's forehead.

 

"It was one night when we were playing around, a few of us. I should have-I knew better, I guess. I wasn't into the guys there but..."

 

"I'll make it nice for you," Louis promised.

 

"I know, Lou, I just-"

 

Harry looked at him, all wide, innocent eyes. He smiled small, so that his dimples flashed a bit.

 

"You're the first one I've wanted to do this with, to try..."

 

"We don't have to do this," Louis frowned, fingers pushing gently though Harry's messy fringe.

 

"Want to," Harry husked lowly.

 

Louis rolled them so that he was on top, kneeing between Harry's thighs as he kissed him hotly; worries forgotten under Louis' warm strong body. He watched with avid eyes as Louis tenderly removed his underwear; laying them to the floor equally kindly, something that Harry found strangely erotic; moaning in his throat as his hard dick surged for attention between them.

 

Louis' hands curved around Harry's thighs to lift one and tuck it over his hip, bending it at the knee. He gently wrapped a hand around Harry's heat and stroked, two, three times, with a kiss to his lips and a whispered,

 

"Want you to come, baby," that had Harry arching his back off the bed.

 

He clenched his thighs together, squeezing Louis between them; eyes focused again on his hands as they administered the liquid from the bottle onto two of his fingers and then he was leaning onto one elbow a little awkwardly; kisses brushed into his lips.

 

Harry began to get into the kiss; licking into his mouth and clinging to him, arching off the bed again. And then he felt it, two wet fingers sliding down his crack, wetting the skin between his butt cheeks. He trembled, letting out a weak noise as Louis broke the kiss to lay soft lips against his chest instead.

 

He stroked up and down leisurely, his heat pressed beside Harry's, no hurry to abate that situation.

 

"Louis-"

 

"Shh," Louis looked at him and swallowed, his pupils dilating as his fingertips found Harry's hole and circled, slowly enough to have Harry gasping out for more.

 

"It's better this way," Louis promised, relaxing the muscles with his patient strokes.

 

"I-" Harry lifted his hips to tighten his legs around Louis' waist, causing the other man to pause.

 

"Yeah?" Louis whispered, breathing becoming ragged.

 

Harry pulled him down into another kiss; hips working in time to his circles, now, surging up as the pads of his fingers threatened to dive inside; his body falling back when they glanced over the hole, not penetrating the ring of muscle just yet.

 

"Please," Harry begged.

 

"Nice?" Louis asked and Harry nodded with aÂ  throaty moan.

 

"Good, Lou...please..."

 

Louis sucked on his lips as he re-lubed his digits, working around him only once before slipping inside. Harry stilled, his heart thundering in his chest and his thighs quivering with the tension of holding himself up.

 

"Let go," Louis' hand pressed against his lower back.

 

Harry slowly let his weight go; surprised to find himself supported by Louis' strength alone. He rubbed against him with a petty whine at the feeling of being held completely in his strong arms.

 

"So good, Harry," Louis murmured, twisting one digit all the way into him as he relaxed his whole body into his hands.

 

It was nothing like the other time Harry had something inserted into him, something he wasn't even sure of what it was. At the time, all he had known was that it hurt and it felt weird but now...

 

Now, he opened his eyes wide to stare at the man affording him such pleasure.

 

"Fuck," he whispered, pushing against the bed with his shoulders and pushing onto Louis' finger.

 

Louis breathed heavily over his face, stealing deep kisses from his lips as he thrusted against him a slightly, abating the pain of his arousal.

 

"Do you need me to-"

 

A second fingertip broached his rim, forcing its way inside beside the first. Louis slid his fingers out to align them and pumped them back in together, twisting them slightly to forge a way inside. Harry clenched around the invasion a little, still breathless with pleasure.

 

"It's-oh-it's-"

 

"Hm?" Louis nosed up his throat, kissing against his jaw bitingly. "What is it, baby?"

 

"I didn't know..." Harry managed, hips bucking to fuck himself as Louis sank his fingers in deep.

 

"Look at you," Louis marvelled with his own wide eyes; still working himself against Harry in their enclosed position; bodies grinding close.

 

Harry turned his face away with a helpless grin, eyes screwed shut as Louis pumped into him; two digits at first, scissored apart to stretch him and then three fingers when he'd accustomed.

 

"Look at me," Louis growled, sucking a kiss into his chest and leaning back a bit to evidence his naked torso, the way his arousal was weakly working against Harry's groin and the way Harry's own dick was curving strongly up his belly. He brushed the backs of his fingers over Harry's tummy; reverent and sweet in his touch.

 

Harry grasped both their dicks into one hand and pumped, slowly, matching Louis' flicker of fingers deep inside him where he felt like he might explode because of the intensity.

 

"Louis!" He gasped, green eyes on blue as they climbed their final peak together; weak and strong at the same time, overwhelmed with passion.

 

"Yeah, look at you," Louis murmured, biting his lip as his hooded eyes dragged over Harry's nakedness. "Want you to cover me."

 

Harry huffed out as Louis' fingertips stroked something inside that triggered a sensation he couldn't describe- not good, but not awful either, just very, very intense.

 

It was enough to have him jolting, streaming his seed over Louis' chest and belly with happy pants; a groan trailing in his throat as Louis fell on top of him and rutted his orgasm out against his belly; hot breath pushing underneath Harry's ear as his heavy weight rested against him.

 

Harry shifted, Louis' fingers still in him as he clenched inside.

 

"Hey, sorry," Louis whispered in his ear, leaning back to gently slide his fingers out; his body quivering as he blinked at Harry with an awed expression.

 

"C'mere," Harry opened his arms to welcome Louis back into them; holding him tight.

 

Louis sighed against his neck.

 

"Fuck, I don't know why I'm shaking."

 

Harry smirked.

 

"I do. That was so fucking intense."

 

Louis hummed, arms worming around Harry's shoulders and underneath him, around his waist.

 

"Did it hurt?" Louis asked.

 

Harry smiled at him, dimples deeper than ever.

 

"Not even a bit."

 

Louis grinned, lifting his head to kiss him softly on the lips.

 

"Just checking."

 

"You know it didn't," he accused with a deep voice betelling of their desire moments before.

 

Louis pressed his lips together, eyes shifting away.

 

"Is it different? Than with a g-"

 

"Lou," Harry cut him off before he could even ask, squeezing him tight.

 

He rolled them, staring at Louis as they laid side by side He carefully tidied Louis' hair back with gentle fingers; his painted nails contrasted with Louis' brunette hair.

 

"I had to ask," Louis ventured.

 

Harry swallowed.

 

"It's mind-blowing with you," he said. "It's not even on a comparable scale because no girl has ever-"

 

Harry stopped, lips lifting at one side. He better not put all his eggs in one basket. He didn't know how Louis felt, yet. Apart from his insane insecurity over Harry's bi-sexuality.

 

Louis kissed over his swollen lips gently.

 

"Don't go back," he smiled, crinkles lengthening into the corners of his eyes.

 

Harry smiled, too but he felt his heart thud painfully in his chest.

 

He would have to go back, sometime. He just didn't know if he would have to stay.

 

//

 

Louis walked Harry through the orchard corridors when full-blossoming season was upon them; the cloud of white flowers amongst the lush green leaves a beautiful sight. On a windy day, the petals would fall and Louis would make Harry giggle by making him stand out there so the silky white blooms would land in his hair; something that Louis had loved doing since he got there.

 

They would kiss under the raining trees; slowly and at leisure from the outside world interrupting them; only Hank or Margaret to call their names and remind them of their obligations inside and outside the house.

 

Harry had got on his knees one balmy afternoon and had shown Louis what he was good at; his lips tight around his heat and mouth a haven for his shaft as he sucked him down and swallowed his release; Louis' loud cries swallowed up by the quiet surrounding them.

 

They spent more time together those two weeks; spent more time hand in hand. They would glance at each other bashfully, like high-schoolers in love, reluctantly letting go when in the company of others despite everyone close to them knowing they were together.

 

It was Louis who felt most uncomfortable in front of the people he had grown up around; his feelings for the newcomer broadcast on his happy face but still, somewhere deep down, he feared the day that Harry left because a part of him wondered if he really would come back.

 

"Lou..." Harry nosed into his shoulder as they shared the sofa; Harry's legs looped over his thigh.

 

"Hm," Louis squeezed his thigh gently.

 

"I want you to trust me."

 

"I do," Louis lied, because part of him _didn't_ but it wasn't Harry's fault. The people who were meant to look after Louis- his own Mum and Dad- had let him down so badly, he found it hard to trust anyone at all.

 

"You think I'll leave you," Harry said.

 

Louis sighed.

 

"No, I think you have a home in New York," he stated. "There's a difference."

 

"What if I want home to be here?"

 

Louis licked his lips, his eyes glued to the TV screen.

 

He didn't have an answer.

 

 

//

 

 

"You look smart..."

 

Harry had on a blue striped, short sleeved silk shirt and skin tight black jeans, smooth leather boots on his feet with fancy gold buckles. He'd managed to wrangle his hair into shape using Hank's hair-gel since he still hadn't been to the store for essentials and hadn't had his hair cut for weeks now.

 

His nails were painted perfectly purple, his eyelids swept with eyeliner and his lashes dark.

 

"I have an interview," he admitted. "In New York."

 

On the last three words, Louis stepped into the kitchen.

 

He looked so small and beautiful half asleep and still in his pyjama's. It ruined Harry inside the way he'd wear an over-sized jumper to bed over sweatpants, the too-long sleeves causing sweater-paws. Louis rubbed his eye.

 

"You're going home." He stated with a tiny frown.

 

Harry got up out of his seat and approached him, glancing at Margaret who busied herself with making tea. Harry had given up on the coffee machine two days after learning Louis only drank tea. Now he loved the drink himself so much he wondered if he was addicted to it.

 

"Only for this job, Lou. We need the money."

 

In reality, Harry could probably save the farm single handedly with his savings alone but he knew that neither Louis nor Margaret would accept that money. If he was _earning_ it, however, he felt a part of their team.

 

"How long?" Louis asked.

 

Harry stopped in front of him. Louis looked up; his sweater-covered fingers clawing into Harry's silk shirt. Harry batted his mascara'd eyes.

 

"I'm not sure. I'll call you when I know."

 

Louis wanted to go with him. His face betrayed that desire and Harry would love nothing more than to show him the bright lights and big city he loved so much. But Louis was needed at the farm until the peaches were harvested and then they could take a break together. Then Harry could show Louis _his_ world.

 

"Okay," Louis took a step back and pushed a smile onto his lips. "Hope it goes well."

 

Harry nodded and sat down, eyes trained on Louis while Margaret brought over tea and some toast.

 

"You two ought to go on a date when Harry gets back," she stated audaciously.

 

Louis flicked Harry a look. He didn't know where he fit into Harry's world, if he even _did_ fit. It seemed likely that he _didn't_ , that he couldn't match the glamour and beauty of his usual daily life.

 

"When he gets back," he echoed quietly, eyes falling to his plate.

 

Harry looked stunning today but he was so far from the guy with naturally dried curly hair, swamped in a striped jumper and splodged jeans. He was closer to the booted and suited man at the funeral. He didn't know if Harry fit in his world any more than he fit in Harry's.

 

"I'd like that," Harry said, equally soft.

 

Louis hummed, finishing his tea.

 

"I better get dressed. Do you want me to drive you to the airport?"

 

Harry smiled, eyes filled with hope.

 

"I'd love you to."

 

Louis nodded and headed up the stairs.

 

//

 

Harry's face twisted painfully as Louis pulled to a stop in a waiting bay at the front of the airport. The drive had been horrendously awkward, stilted silence and one-sided conversation from himself.

 

Louis had driven with a steadfast determination to not even look at him. He watched as Louis drummed his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel and wondered why he'd offered to bring him at all.

 

"Lou..."

 

"Just go Harry," Louis said. "I get it, you know."

 

"What do you get?" Harry argued.

 

"That this is your life," he sighed. "Jet-setting about and glamorous parties. Girls in every place..."

 

"Louis, _fuck_ , are you serious?" Harry beseeched.

 

Louis swallowed and looked away.

 

"Just go back to your nice life Harry. We both know this is goodbye."

 

"It doesn't have to be," Harry begged. "I want to come back. I want to come back to Sacramento and to _you_ ," he argued. "I told you how I feel about women, about-"

 

"Don't say _us_ ," Louis cut over him.

 

"I wasn't going to," Harry stated quietly, arching a brow. "Because you never saw an _us_ did you? I was just a city-boy fling, someone to kiss while I was around and then you can go back to hiding who you really are..."

 

Louis turned to shout at him, to argue those words but Harry was already out of the car and dashing for the front entrance of the airport.

 

He slipped his keys out of the ignition and jumped from the truck, locking his door before running after him.

 

"Don't put this on me!" Louis stumbled into the airport to yell, earning several interested glances as Harry got his ticket checked, his luggage being weighed before he stepped away with the all-clear to fly.

 

"Why not Louis? I've never lied to you about who I am and what I want."

 

"What _do_ you want Harry? Because I seem to remember that it was Jackie when you first got here!"

 

"I was still confused then! You _hated_ me but you made me so fucking-"

 

Louis clenched his teeth as Harry stopped himself, slewing breaths in and out of his lungs.

 

"So, _what_ , Harry? _What_ did I make you?"

 

Harry fixed his dark eyes on Louis' face, making sure to look into his blue orbs directly.

 

"Hard," he said, lowly so nobody else would hear.

 

Louis gulped.

 

"Yeah, you heard me," Harry lifted his brows in petty delight at shutting Louis up. "For the first time in my life I met a guy who made me _hard_. Knew I liked 'em, had played with a dick or two but fuck, Louis!" He smiled, shaking his head in ironic humour. "You're the first one I actually wanted to be with."

 

"Just a-Just to..." Louis choked, trying to fight the words, the emotion behind them.

 

"Just to _love_." Harry finished for him, taking a breath as his eyes widened in petty shock at the words he'd just spoken, unintentionally perhaps.

 

Louis stared at him, unblinking, lips pressing together tightly to deny his reality; too afraid to admit his truth. He probably _could_ love Harry, could fall head-over-heels for him in fact. But it had only been a few weeks and they were polar opposites, it would never work. Would it? _Could_ it work? He opened his mouth as Harry turned towards the security gate; the feelings there, locked inside his chest.

 

He wanted to tell Harry how gentle he'd be if he were his, if he was the man Harry chose to be with in _that_ way; to make love with for the first time, man on man. He wanted to tell him and he'd _shown_ him, yet--

 

 _Harry was afraid too_.

 

Louis hung his head and squeezed his eyes shut to stop the tears. He lifted his head and marched out of the airport.


	7. Chapter 7

"It says here that she snogged another bloke in an alley near this nightclub..."

 

"Niall, I don't want to know-"

 

"Harry had booked them a restaurant and she hadn't showed up because she was out partying."

 

Louis frowned, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

 

"So not only did she knowingly stand him up, but she fucked another guy in an alley where all the scum of the earth paps could see," Niall concluded.

 

"Fuck," Louis murmured, horrified.

 

"And you're here wondering why he was so scared to put his heart on the line before he left?" Niall chastised. "What's _your_ excuse?"

 

Louis glared at him.

 

"I didn't know that he wanted to put a name on it."

 

"What's wrong with putting a name on it?" Niall wondered.

 

Niall watched as his friend dipped his chin, swallowing again.

 

"I didn't think a guy like Harry would want--we only kissed and-"

 

"Nice kisses?" Niall wondered, lower lip protruding in curiosity.

 

Louis rolled his eyes.

 

"Obviously."

 

Niall patted his arm.

 

"So, you gonna call him and tell him what a twat you were?"

 

"And say what?" Louis snapped. "That I want him to be my boyfriend?"

 

"Might be a good start, Lou," Niall confirmed and Louis gave a wet, unhumoured laugh.

 

"Guys like me don't get guys like Harry, Ni."

 

"He told ya he wanted to fall in love. He told ya _you_ were the guy he wanted to do that with...he told ya-"

 

"Shut up."

 

"He told ya," Niall leaned into his arm. "That he didn't want girls anymore. He wants _you_."

 

"For how long?" Louis argued weakly, sighing. "Until another fashion show and some leggy pretty thing comes along."

 

Niall snorted.

 

"Hate to say this Lou, but I don't think leggy is his type, do you?"

 

Louis wrestled Niall's arm off his shoulders and got up to pace the room.

 

"He loved New York before he came here. What if he goes back and wants to stay for good?"

 

Niall hummed.

 

"Then you'd go with him, wouldn't you?"

 

Louis turned, something brightening his face that Niall couldn't identify.

 

"What ya thinking, Lou?"

 

"I should go...I should go to New York while he's doing this job and-and show him that I can do it, that I can compromise and maybe, if he still likes me then we could-"

 

" _Finally just fucking admit you're made for each_ _other_ ," Niall inserted under his breath.

 

Louis pretended not to hear.

 

"Should I go to New York?" He asked Niall.

 

"Yes!" Niall stood up and clapped his hands. "Fucking hell, Louis, let's book you the next plane out..."

 

Louis nodded, his face creasing suddenly in worry.

 

"Shit...the orchard...I can't just drop everything and leave the peaches..."

 

"Hey, don't you worry your pretty little head about that. The watering is under control now and Hank can manage the feeding. Me and Roger can help out with anything urgent. You'll be back in a few days won't ya?"

 

Louis nodded, thinking he could be back in _less_ than a few days if Harry rejected him. He only hoped that wouldn't be the case.

 

//

 

He didn't know what to wear on the plane. He felt like a country bumpkin landing in JFK airport where everyone looked slick and smooth and stylish. Louis could see why Harry had come home; there would be a lot of work for a Stylist there.

 

It was busy and overwhelming and he had to throw himself in a taxi to prevent getting usurped by another traveller, something that had happened three times before he elbowed the other people out of the way to claim his ride.

 

Once he was inside, he let his breathing calm down.

 

Margaret had Harry's address, he'd given it to her in case of emergency and well-if Louis' love-life wasn't an emergency then he didn't know what _was_. Tom's passing had taught him something- that you couldn't sit around waiting for things to happen. You had to get up and make them happen. And that's what he was doing here and now, finding out if he and Harry had something to call their own.

 

He sighed, the taxi pulling up outside an impressive set of apartments. His heart was in his throat as he rang up to Harry's number. The concierge at the desk had given him the once-over and Louis had never felt so small. He was a simple man in black jeans, his favourite plimsolls and a clinging grey jumper with too-long sleeves (as usual). His hair was a bit of a rough mess, his fringe falling across his face. His stubble was probably a bit long and he should have had a shave and what if Harry wasn't even here? He might at an interview or already at a job or-

 

"Lou?"

 

He turned towards the voice; Harry leaning out from the elevator with a confused expression.

 

Louis thanked the man at the desk and walked over, hitching his bag on his shoulder.

 

"Erm, I-"

 

"Fuck," Harry breathed and hastened to wrap him up, smudging a kiss onto his lips. "You came- _fuck_ , you...you came," he murmured between kissing him, a jumbled mess of words.

 

Louis smiled as Harry pulled away, grasping at his onesie-suit front with a teasing grin splitting his lips. It was a black velour lounge suit with gold buttons up the front of it.

 

"You could have dressed up."

 

Harry smiled, laughter sparking out in delight, his eyes glowing with happiness.

 

"I can't believe you! You actually-"

 

"Going to take me up to your swanky apartment then, city boy?" Louis interrupted when Harry became speechless.

 

"Fuck, yeah," Harry hurried them into the lift and Louis pushed him up against the side of it, earning soft, warm lips under his and throaty noises.

 

They staggered in through Harry's front door and felt their way along the corridor.

 

"Where's the-" Louis panted.

 

"Wanted to give you the full tour," Harry pouted as he pulled away.

 

Louis squeezed his ass.

 

"Later," he begged. "I'll see everything, I promise."

 

Harry grinned and hoisted him up; carrying him to the bedroom where he leaned forward until Louis was under him on the bed.

 

"What's this for?" Harry peeled up his jumper to press kisses to his belly.

 

"It was cold when I left, I-"

 

"Hmm," Harry licked a stripe up his belly, sucking a kiss over his nipple.

 

"Okay, I can take it off," Louis agreed breathlessly, wriggling to rid his clothes. "Too hot now, too fucking-"

 

Harry ground down hard, one thigh between Louis', using Louis' for abrasion.

 

"Oh god...Lou..."

 

Louis slipped both hands over Harry's ass and grinned, knowing exactly what to say in this moment, exactly what to whisper.

 

"You have the sweetest peach of all," he said against Harry's ear with a smug smirk as Harry worked himself against Louis, using his body for his own pleasure.

 

"Lou," Harry groaned, rutting against Louis' jeaned thigh hard but slow; his body shuddering suddenly as he gasped excitedly; a high pitched 'ah!' sounding out as he clung to Louis' thigh with both of his own.

 

He sucked in fast breaths, his head lifting from Louis' chest to stare at him wide-eyed.

 

"You-you just--"

 

Louis lifted his brows, circling his hips to remind Harry of his need.

 

"I just what?" He asked, lost.

 

"Made me-" Harry gaped.

 

"Made you?"

 

Harry wriggled a bit, making a face.

 

"I'm all wet, now...it's sticky..."

 

Louis blinked quickly, his mouth falling open.

 

"You--Harry, you-"

 

"Fuck, Lou," he whined. "Why did you say that? Of all the stupid, unsexy things to say..."

 

Louis petted his hair.

 

"Wasn't that unsexy if you came that hard from it," he murmured, earning a growl from Harry as he dipped low and pushed the heel of his hand over Louis' hard ridge.

 

"H-hey...oh, okay, oh!"

 

Harry licked at him over the denim, fingers deftly unzipping him and unlooping his jeans stud, gently releasing Louis' hardness from the prison of his jeans. He opened his mouth and slipped Louis inside, no pleasantries or pause.

 

"No, wait," Louis's fingers flexed in the soft strands of his hair as Harry hollowed his cheeks and pushed Louis against the fleshy side of his mouth, licking his underside at the same time.

 

It was too much for Louis who was reminded of that day in the orchard when Harry had just dropped to his knees and anything with Harry meant so much more than whatever came before; the pleasure went so much deeper; burning him from inside out.

 

"Don't!" He gasped, trying to pull Harry away so he wouldn't swallow, but Harry stayed close and the sensation of his throat bobbing made Louis trip over that edge of pleasure twice as hard.

 

"You don't play fair," he gasped as Harry pulled away.

 

He grinned sexily at him.

 

"You're the one who turned up at my apartment like some soppy movie," Harry argued, his voice deep with sex.

 

Louis opened his arms and Harry crawled up into them, cheek settling on his chest as Louis wrapped him up.

 

"I couldn't leave things as they were...I was such a dick."

 

"I'm sorry I shouted at you."

 

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you how I feel." Louis replied.

 

"How _do_ you feel?"

 

"That I miss you when you're gone," Louis admitted with a soft sigh.

 

Harry's arms tightened around his waist with a squeeze.

 

"Ditto."

 

"Did you get the job?" Louis asked next, hand brushing down Harry's back, making him shiver.

 

"Yeah..."

 

"What is it?" Louis asked.

 

"Well, Marc Jacobs offered me a post at their Macy's counter," he began and Louis' mind began calculating how they would make things work, how often he could come to New York and- "But they happen to have this flagship store in Jackson and they need someone to offer advice to the customers and replicate the runway look in real life," he murmured.

 

"That's only twenty minutes from the farm," Louis frowned.

 

"Yeah. So I kinda got it," he mused, his smile smushed up against Louis' chest.

 

"What? Harry...you-"

 

Harry lifted his head, smiling goofily at Louis. He shrugged one shoulder.

 

"Figured it was worth finding out if we could- _you know_..."

 

Louis rolled them over, settling between Harry's thighs as the taller man smiled at him happily, all dimples and green eyes.

 

"I thought I was losing you."

 

"You were wrong," Harry said.

 

Louis leaned down to kiss him softly, pulling away with a mischievous grin.

 

"You have to show me your apartment."

 

"Do you like the four poster?" Harry grinned.

 

Louis smirked.

 

"I love it."

 

"Then can we stay here a bit longer?" Harry bargained.

 

Louis smiled, kissing Harry silly.

 

"We can stay here as long as you like..."

 

//

 

Harry's friends were all so beautiful.

 

Zayn in particular was stunning and Louis wondered how Harry hadn't fallen for him the moment they'd met, but Harry had told him he'd never had those kinds of feelings towards his best friend. The others, Louis noticed, were more concerned with their own lives than Harry's.

 

Louis was treated as something of a fleeting novelty, not regarded seriously as Harry's partner but he didn't mind. He didn't mind because Harry clutched his hand tightly all night and made sure everyone knew they were together and when they fell out of a club with a bunch of models, the paparazzi had captured their hand-holding too.

 

Louis found he liked being claimed, in a way.

 

Ever since leaving home after being neglected by his own family; he'd only ever found the same kind of acceptance with the Styles' family, adopting him much as their own. And Harry was a different part of that family but he made Louis feel like he belonged there, even though he felt ridiculously out of place in his jumper and jeans.

 

Harry liked his jumpers and jeans. He'd whispered as much against his skin that night before they'd stroked each other to ecstasy; a shared orgasm and sticky splash of semen upon each other's skin.

 

Louis had spooned Harry that night.

 

"We fly back tomorrow," Harry sighed, secure in his arms.

 

"It'll be okay Harry." Louis assured.

 

"Thank you for coming, Louis."

 

"Always," Louis kissed the back of his neck with gentle lips.

 

//

 

 

Louis picked Harry up from work after his first day at the Marc Jacobs store.

 

He watched quietly from the truck as Harry finished up his shift; his bright eyes and wide-mouthed smiles something of a new side to Harry that he'd not seen before. Along with his girly-hipped walk up and down the shop in mock-catwalk style.

 

His hair was styled, now. He looked beautiful and fresh-faced in a turquoise shirt and his staple black jeans.

 

Louis felt like he didn't deserve him, still. He felt like Harry could still fly away like the prettiest butterfly come the end of summer.

 

"Hey!" Harry thrust himself into the truck cabin, leaning over to press a kiss to Louis' cheek.

 

"Hey," Louis smiled, curling a hand around his knee. "Good day?"

 

Harry nodded as he strapped himself in.

 

"These are my people!" He enthused with a happy sigh.

 

Louis looked away with a pained smile of his own, only too aware that he _wasn't_ Harry's type of person at all. He didn't quite understand how they worked; but he kind of didn't want to know at the same time.

 

"I see your catwalk career is imminent," Louis mused as he pulled out of the parking lot.

 

Harry smirked, hands in his lap as he sent messages on his phone.

 

"Not sure I'm model material," he said.

 

"You've got the legs for it..."

 

Louis glanced at him, not losing his concentration on the road.

 

Harry slipped his phone into his pocket.

 

"Oh, yeah?"

 

Louis' lips pursed to curb his grin.

 

"Margaret wants me to take you out tonight."

 

"Margaret wants?" Harry repeated. "I'm not sure, Lou, I mean wasn't it you who once said if _you_ don't want it then it doesn't mean anything?"

 

Louis let his laugh break free, loud in the truck cabin.

 

"You never did say sorry," he remarked of the reminder.

 

Harry brushed the back's of his finger's against Louis' thigh, eyes flicking to his face as he changed gear and the muscles in his thigh flexed.

 

"I can make it up to you?" He arched a suggestive brow.

 

Louis bit his lip, his heartbeat quickening, his crotch warming in interest.

 

He'd wondered how things might be between them now, if it would be awkward or if they would struggle to build something. Harry surprised him every minute he knew him and no more so than since they'd got back from New York together.

 

"After dinner," Louis said. "Since I'm on a mission to impress you."

 

"Is that what Margaret said?" Harry leaned back in his seat, curled slightly like a young boy and not the twenty-two year old grown man he really was.

 

"No, that's all my idea," Louis admitted quietly. "I have a lot to live up to considering the lure of the bright lights in the big city..."

 

Harry smiled, looking out the window before turning his gaze back to the man driving.

 

"Lou...you know you don't have to do anything to keep me here, don't you?"

 

Louis swallowed down his fears.

 

"At least pretend like I have to try," he replied; winking at the younger man.

 

Harry grinned; evidently happy at being doted on.

 

"Alright," he agreed lowly. "I can pretend."

 

//

 

Louis had on his dark grey suit.

 

He only owned one suit but Harry couldn't have cared much less because he looked so good in that one he'd have had serious misgivings about Louis wearing anything else.

 

"Oh," he tilted his head, brow lifting. "Peachy's coming out to play..."

 

Louis shucked out a breathy laugh, looking to his feet.

 

"Try and restrain yourself until after dinner," Louis smiled.

 

Harry bit his lip as Louis looked up, his blue eyes tracing over his own suited form. The patterned suit he'd worn to the Dior show. Zayn might have teased him for bringing it but they matched now, dapper and smart.

 

"I'll try but I can't promise anything," Harry murmured as Louis came towards him.

 

He was leaned against the fire-place when Louis had come down the stairs from his room.

 

Louis stopped in front of him and ran a thumb-pad gently under his lower lip. He had a little stubble that bristled against his knuckles but his lips were deep red, enticing and pretty.

 

"Is this kiss-proof?" Louis asked of his lipstick.

 

Harry smirked, fluttering his dark lashes, his smoky lids bared.

 

"Not the way you kiss."

 

Louis leaned up on tip-toe and brushed the gentlest of kisses against his lips.

 

"Guess we'll save that for later, too..."

 

Harry's hands flexed with the want of grabbing Louis' ass in those trousers but he resisted the urge.

 

"So much to do when we get home," Harry mused, his breath warm and minty as it puffed into Louis' face.

 

"Better get going, then," Louis stepped back. "Sooner we get started..."

 

Harry slipped his hand between Louis' elbow and body, letting Louis lead him to the truck.


	8. Chapter 8

"I can't believe she took pictures!"

 

"It's like my prom or something," Louis mused.

 

"She was so blatant, too! My Auntie Margaret!" He lamented, curled into giggles.

 

Louis watched him with a wide grin.

 

"I guess she's keen for this to happen," Louis commented.

 

Harry sobered a bit, reaching for a bread stick to crunch on.

 

"Same."

 

Louis watched him with narrowed eyes but Harry couldn't make out what he was thinking.

 

Harry hummed, reading his menu slowly.

 

"What's next at the farm?" He asked a few moments later.

 

"Pruning out the old branches before harvest," Louis explained. "We usually employ a few temps in for that but I can look at gathering some friends to help out for free."

 

Harry nodded, eyes going over Louis' face. He was beautifully tanned and his hair had been described by one of his city friends as 'bedraggled'. His beard was probably considered too long to be fashionable and yet Harry couldn't stop the buzzing excitement in his body at being here with him tonight; at the promise of kissing him again.

 

He'd had to ignore the comments of the people who called themselves his friends because he knew only too well that they _weren't_. Not _really_. And Louis was the only person he'd confided in lately and he had no reason to doubt him or his word.

 

"You're so beautiful."

 

He hadn't meant to say it, to blurt it out like that.

 

Louis' head lifted and his brows rose. His eyes flicked around the room as if Harry might have been talking to someone else.

 

"What?"

 

"You-you're so beautiful," Harry said again, with a small, shy smile.

 

Louis blinked, lips parting in apparent shock.

 

"Ah-is this...What is this?"

 

Harry shrugged, smirking as he sat back a bit, thighs wide.

 

"It's not a game if that's what you're thinking."

 

"It's not?" Louis mused.

 

Harry's smile slipped.

 

"No, it's not." He stated, picking up his menu with a sigh.

 

Louis felt his heart beat painfully hard in his chest.

 

"I didn't mean-I thought you were--"

 

"Yeah, I can see," Harry clipped, looking around for the waiter. "You thought I was talking to someone else."

 

The waiter swooped into take their orders, leaving Louis staring at Harry while he made his request. Harry's knee bobbed impatiently under the table as Louis quietly ordered his own food, turning his gaze back to Harry once they were alone once more.

 

"You'll never trust me will you?" Harry accused, but his voice was so soft and his eyes were so broken that Louis' heart broke with seeing it.

 

"I've never been called beautiful," Louis shared.

 

Harry's eyes met his and held them, the earnestness in Louis blue depths instantly quelling the fire of Harry's anger. _He truly wasn't used to being complimented_. Harry leaned forward in his seat.

 

"Better get used to it."

 

Harry leaned back again, glancing around the room. A couple near the window was watching them avidly, evidently pretending not to.

 

"Do you know those people?" Harry asked Louis.

 

Louis looked up; squinting into the distance.

 

"Oh that's Richard and his wife, Nora. They own the hardware shop in town."

 

"Seems like they didn't know you like boys, Lou."

 

Louis snorted.

 

"Pretty sure most of the town have gossiped about my sexuality since I got here..."

 

Harry slid a look over to the window again, gauging the reaction. If these people even looked to be about to ruin their night then he would end whatever they had planned before it started.

 

"Want me to go and say hi?" Harry wondered.

 

Louis shook his head, biting his lip as he looked up and waved at the other table. Richard waved back with a grin, Nora kicking him under the table.

 

Louis couldn't help his splutter of laughter.

 

"We'll probably make the front page of the Tribune," he mused.

 

Harry preened.

 

"Darling, I was born to be front page news."

 

Louis laughed, gaze falling on Harry's face and pausing there, flicking over his features. His eyes landed on the rouge of his lips.

 

"Hmm, later," Harry smirked.

 

Louis swallowed, tearing his gaze away as their starters were delivered, the waiter's exit followed by the entrance of a new body.

 

"Louis, hai," Nora greeted with a twang.

 

"Oh, hey, Nora," Louis got up politely to greet the woman.

 

Nora slid a furtive look at Harry.

 

"Who's your friend?" She asked boldly.

 

Louis smiled.

 

"This is Harry Styles," he introduced. "Margaret's nephew. You probably heard he inherited the farm from Tom," Louis explained.

 

"Oh, _Harry_!" She turned and put out a hand for Harry to shake. "Little Harry who used to run around with a fake pistol?"

 

Harry bit the inside of his lip to stop his automatic, acerbic response to that clearly pointed remark.

 

"Yeah, I run around with a make-up kit now," he winked, kissing the back of her hand for the sole purpose of showing off his painted nails.

 

"Oh," Nora withdrew her hand quickly. "Well, how nice, dear..."

 

"How are you though?" He asked.

 

Nora shifted awkwardly.

 

"I mustn't interrupt you eating," she backed away.

 

"Oh, well nice to see you!" Harry called, lifting a hand to wave goodbye. "Next time come and sit with us!"

 

Louis sat down with a chuckle as Nora scattered back to the other side of the room and slipped into her seat. Richard seemed to be embarrassed to be with her, ducking his head and hiding his face with his hand.

 

They tucked into their starters with amused glances at each other.

 

"Is this what it's going to be like?" Harry wondered after their mains. "Dating you?"

 

"Hm?" Louis looked up from his meal.

 

Harry flicked his eyes sideways. Another couple were sat at the table beside theirs, both staring.

 

"Maybe they want a look at my steak," Louis commented.

 

"You don't know them?"

 

Harry's feet hugged his under the table, his long legs surrounding Louis'.

 

Louis rolled his eyes and looked over.

 

"Hi, Geraldine...Max," he waved shyly.

 

"Oh, Louis!" Geraldine faked surprise. "We didn't recognise you..."

 

Harry laced his fingers through Louis' free hand as it rested on the able.

 

"Hi," he lifted his chin, using his smoothest voice as he lifted one brow.

 

Louis looked at him, eyes alight with mischief.

 

"This is my boyfriend, Harry," he introduced.

 

Max and Geraldine's mouths opened to the same width.

 

"O-oh," Geraldine finally managed to stutter. "Nice to meet you, Harry..."

 

Louis looked back to Harry once they'd exchanged pleasantries, finding Harry's gaze on him, dark and intense.

 

"I thought we weren't playing games."

 

Louis unlinked their fingers to stretch.

 

"We aren't. Are we?"

 

Harry ducked forward.

 

"What was with the 'boyfriend'?" he whispered.

 

Louis blinked, mouth slackening.

 

"I'm sorry-god, I didn't even think. Harry, if that's-"

 

"Did you want dessert?" Harry asked.

 

Louis shook his head.

 

"No I was going to let you order and-"

 

"Can we go?"

 

"Of course," Louis quickly got his card out to pay for the meal, standing to help Harry into a long, red coat he'd brought to keep off the chill. He slid his hand onto the small of his back as they turned to leave.

 

"See you later!" Louis waved to the people he knew, guiding Harry into the parking lot.

 

"Jesus," Harry finally hissed, grabbing Louis by the lapels of his jacket to pull him against him as he pressed his back to the side of the truck.

 

"Wai-" Louis fell into the kiss, a little awkward and heavy as he landed against Harry but Harry just whimpered in his throat and lifted a knee to make extra room.

 

Louis curled a hand around his thigh, supporting his raised knee with a gentle stroke of his thumb. He pressed closer between his thighs as their kiss deepened and gentled; their position settling.

 

"Fuck," Harry gasped as Louis kissed along his bristled jaw.

 

"I ruined your lipstick," Louis panted, biting into the point where his jaw and neck met.

 

"Ruin _me_ ," Harry begged, tugging him back into a kiss; hands in his hair and then sliding over his shoulders as Louis licked into his mouth.

 

"Oh, baby," Louis cupped Harry's backside in both hands to scoop him closer, to rub himself against Harry's crotch and align their dicks; both hardening from the action of their mouths.

 

Harry arched himself into Louis' body with weak thrusts, his breath tight and fast.

 

"Anything but calling me your boyfriend," he muttered as Louis' lips slid from his to kiss his throat.

 

"What?" Louis licked over his collar-bone, coming back to place the gentlest kisses on his lips, each having their own attention laid upon them.

 

"Lou!" Harry gasped, ripping his hand off his behind and pressing it against the heat at the front of his jeans. He moaned and pushed his hips into his palm, his arousal ridged and painful already.

 

"Does it make you hard?" Louis whispered, suddenly getting it.

 

"You think?" Harry tried to joke but in truth the tremor in his whole body gave too much away.

 

Louis nuzzled close, lips brushing against his ear.

 

"Calling you _boyfriend_?"

 

Harry made a noise, small and high-pitched. He was pinned to the side of the truck; clinging to Louis' shoulders.

 

"You liked it, didn't you? That's what made you-"

 

"Shush now," Harry cupped his face and kissed him deeply, finally getting his own hands on Louis' backside as Louis surged closer, grinding their dicks together.

 

His hand which had once been upon the front of Harry's jeans now slid up the back of his shirt; driving his warm palm flat onto the skin of his back.

 

"Oh-" Harry arched, practically trying to tighten his legs around Louis' waist to get close enough it seemed.

 

Louis made a frustrated growl and reached behind them to pull at the door-handle.

 

"Hey," Louis hoisted Harry's waist in his arms a bit. "Let's get in..."

 

Harry nodded and scrambled into the cab, climbing into Louis' lap as soon as he'd pulled himself up and settled into the seat.

 

"Holy hell," Louis laughed as Harry straddled him, fighting off his winter jacket.

 

Harry pouted.

 

"You're mocking me? At a time like this?"

 

"I'm just thanking my lucky stars I parked the truck at the back of the parking lot," Louis teased, his hands running up Harry's thighs slowly, with appreciation as he dug his thumbs into the meat of that flesh.

 

Harry was shucking off his suit jacket, too, untying his tie and ripping at the top buttons of his shirt.

 

"Want you to bite me," Harry panted, pupils blown in his olive eyes.

 

Louis bit his lip and fought against a throaty groan as Harry's big hand rubbed heel-first against his hardness.

 

"Yeah, okay," he agreed quickly, one hand curved around his thigh and the other spreading Harry's shirt away from his collar-bones with a tender thumb.

 

"Here?" Louis licked the bony flesh to indicate his intention.

 

"Yes, Jesus...anywhere," he begged.

 

Louis smirked, kissing the skin slowly first, his hair a tousled mess in Harry's hands.

 

"Lou, please," he prompted as Louis circled his hips, trying to create friction.

 

Harry's hand stayed upon the front of his trousers, promising a prize for following orders.

 

He sank his teeth into the skin slowly; sucking at the same time.

 

"Yeah," Harry panted in a deep voice. "Like that...harder..."

 

Louis pressed a kiss to the middle of his chest, nosing into a sweet spot on his throat.

 

"That what you like, Harry? Being marked and called boyfriend?"

 

Louis sucked into the softer, sweeter skin harder this time; knowing it would cause a bright red bruise the next day. He groaned at the thought of everyone seeing it and knowing. Knowing that he had caused it, that they had indulged like this after their date.

 

Louis' hands snuck under his shirt to dip into his lower back, pulling him closer in his lap; Harry's hand trapped between them and still working gently against him, firm and slow and arousing. Louis looked into his eyes, baring his teeth.

 

"Want me to bite you anywhere else, baby?"

 

Harry bit his own bottom lip, his red lipstick smudged wantonly. His breathing was so fast and hard, his face flushed down to his chest where Louis' sucking kisses were already blooming.

 

Louis couldn't believe the sight.

 

" _Fuck_."

 

Harry's eyes focused on his.

 

"Can't. No lube."

 

Louis pushed against his hand, going about releasing Harry's erection the same time Harry began to unzip his trousers.

 

"Get your coat," Louis whispered, though god knew why because nobody could hear.

 

Harry shouldered the coat to shroud them; their hands fumbling in the dark to find skin, their bodies struggling to keep balance.

 

Louis kept one hand against Harry's lower back, fingers dipping enticingly under the band of the boxers he'd already pushed low. Harry sat in his lap, curving strongly upward; a small gasp leaving his lips as Louis finally wrapped small fingers around him. Small, calloused fingers that he'd wondered what they felt like that first day when he'd-

 

"Oh, Lou," He couldn't help but ride the feeling, pushing up into his hand.

 

"Hm?" Louis grunted, touch so tender against his desire; against his erotic words. "Like that?"

 

"Yes! Yes-oh, god..."

 

Louis smiled, not bothered about his own release in that moment, concentrating solely on giving Harry his.

 

He didn't expect for Harry to fist around him with long, dexterous fingers and tug at him assuredly.

 

"So thick," Harry swallowed, wilting forward a bit.

 

Louis re-arranged them so Harry could rest his head on his shoulder, so he could poke dry fingers down Harry's crack whilst he twisted his hand over him and whispered things into his ear that he had no idea whether Harry heard.

 

All he knew was that it was too soon when he started to hit his high, when Harry's wet kisses to his neck accompanied the tightening and rush of his hand.

 

"Look so good, Harry.... _feel_ so good..."

 

Louis brushed fingertips over his hole as he tugged fast at his tip; determined to get him to spill first.

 

Harry cried out weakly; choking out sounds and biting at Louis' shirt as he splashed him with semen; Louis' excited breaths and disbelief triggering his own release seconds later. He felt embarrassed almost immediately, groaning into Harry's hair.

 

"Oh god-what did we-"

 

"Shh," Harry nosed into his neck. "Don't regret it yet."

 

Louis tightened his arm around him, hand slipping onto his butt-cheek.

 

"I'd never regret you."

 

Harry curled into him a bit more.

 

"Lou."

 

Louis let go of Harry's dick carefully, wiping his sticky palm on his own thigh before carefully tidying Harry's hair.

 

"Just wish we had that four-poster of yours," he murmured. "This is so redneck..."

 

Harry huffed a  laugh against his chest, pulling back to look at him in the dark.

 

"You think Nora saw?"

 

Louis burst into laughter, tenderly dressing Harry back into his clothes as they came down from their high.

 

"Probably videoed it. You'll never live it down with your fashion friends."

 

Louis shifted across the seat to slide into the driver's position. He looked over at Harry as he curled up in the passenger seat; soft and beautiful.

 

"You got it wrong you know."

 

Harry looked at him with a quizzical smile.

 

"You're the beautiful one," Louis said, brushing his fingers through Harry's hair.

 

Harry smiled and strapped himself in with his seat belt.

 

//

 

They shared Louis' bed that night, wrapped close together naked but warm in the early summer temperatures.

 

The peaches would be harvested before long, they'd be too busy to enjoy each other the way they had tonight.

 

Harry woke early to make breakfast; sleepy yawns frequent as his hair flopped down messily; his boxers paired with his favourite striped jumper- the one he'd worn that day the sprinklers had broken.

 

It may be warm at night but the kitchen had cold tiles and the sun wasn't up yet.

 

"Hm, there you are..." Louis' arms came around his middle as he filled a tea-pot with hot water. Harry couldn't help his smile.

 

"Hey, you're ruining my surprise..."

 

Louis' hand snuck up the front of his jumper, splaying against his belly.

 

"You're pregnant?"

 

Harry snorted.

 

"Miraculous conception doesn't exist yet."

 

Louis hummed, his hand shifting, his rough-skinned thumb circling Harry's nipple. His lips pressed a kiss into the back of his neck.

 

"How do they cope without you in New York? You've been here two months and I'm already addicted."

 

Harry twisted a bit to kiss him, cupping his face to draw it upwards, opening his thighs to let Louis settle between them. His hands clutched his back under his jumper as their mouths met in a now-familiar duel.

 

"Hmm..."

 

Louis was just getting into the moment when a brightly-called 'Morning!' had him shooting back; his confused eyes scanning the room.

 

They settled on Margaret who was now sat at the big wooden table.

 

"Morning," he stepped away from Harry reluctantly, biting his lip. "Erm, sorry--about that, about-"

 

Margaret smiled into the sun which streamed into the blinded window.

 

"Don't apologise for being in love," she waved her hand but Louis moved to kiss her cheek and give her a hug, as he always did.

 

He slid a look to Harry. Harry who was busy pouring tea.

 

"How are you this morning?" Louis asked, sitting down beside Margaret.

 

She sighed.

 

"Sad," she admitted. "But I'm up. Which counts," she added.

 

Louis nodded, looking up as Harry slid two mugs onto the table. Harry turned away before he could catch his gaze. He stared at him for a moment before sighing out and turning his gaze back to the older woman.

 

"We're going around the corridors to even them out for the trucks and we'll need your help getting the picking buckets and bins ready."

 

Margaret nodded with a hum.

 

"He managed everything so well, didn't he?"

 

Louis nodded, a wistful smile gracing his lips.

 

"So do you," Margaret patted his sweat-panted knee.

 

Louis tried not to feel self-conscious at being bare-chested. He looked around for an errant tee-shirt but couldn't see any laundry in reaching distance.

 

He flicked a look to the stove to check on Harry who had started to crack eggs into a skillet, a tray of bacon ready to go under the grill.

 

"Harry, do you need some help there?" Margaret asked as her gaze followed Louis'.

 

"No, I'm good," he assured, turning on another ring to start cooking what looked like beans.

 

Louis swallowed.

 

"I'm going to find something to wear," he stood to excuse himself.


	9. Chapter 9

Louis pulled on the closest tee-shirt to his fingers; rushing back down the stairs to breakfast. He slipped back into his seat beside Margaret just as Harry was serving the food.

 

Harry paused on seeing him there; his eyes flicking onto Louis' chest. Louis looked down, realising he had picked up Harry's grey t-shirt and it came up big on him, gaping over his collar-bones.

 

"Just borrowing it," Louis said at his look, wondering why Harry had gone quiet all of a sudden. Since they'd been interrupted, in fact.

 

"This is lovely, Harry," Margaret complimented beside Louis with a hum of appreciation. "Thank you."

 

"You're welcome," he sat on the opposite side of the table and went about eating his own food.

 

//

 

"Are you worried about Margaret knowing about us?"

 

They were walking through the trees after sun-down, checking the air temperature and trying to predict if a frost was about to fall. Louis had a digital thermometer in his hand and Harry held the probe.

 

Louis glanced at him.

 

"No," he frowned, confused.

 

Harry fidgeted with a sigh.

 

"Then why did-" He paused, licking his lips and stopping to pose, hip jutting out. "Then why do you jump apart if she sees us?"

 

Louis stared at the temperature gauge for long moments, finally sighing and turning it off. He slipped it into his pocket and bit his lip, looking up at Harry in the half-moonlight; the orchards lit with low  lighting buried into the ground.

 

"It's like getting caught by your Mom," Louis admitted ruefully. "And with you I-"

 

Harry swallowed, stopping a bit and dipping his chin to catch Louis' lowered gaze.

 

"With me, what?"

 

"Things get hot, fast," Louis smirked a bit, looking back into Harry's face. "I'd hate to be caught- _you know_..."

 

"With a hard-on?" Harry's lips flickered into a smirk to match Louis'.

 

Louis grinned, laughing as he looked to his feet.

 

"Yeah, that's exactly it."

 

Harry reached for his hand, holding it firmly.

 

"I think she'd understand."

 

Louis shrugged.

 

"Can you imagine _your_ Mom seeing that?"

 

Harry bit his lip. His Mom had only ever seen him with girls. She might know about his sexuality but to see it, to catch him with Louis in the kitchen for example, crowded up against the counter, then-

 

"Awkward," He admitted.

 

Louis lifted his brow, kissing the back of Harry's hand.

 

"I told the town you're my boyfriend," he reminded.

 

Harry flushed at the memory; of what came after that the times he'd been to town since and he'd had people he didn't know greeting him, somehow magically knowing he was with Louis. He put it down to word travelling fast after their date at the restaurant.

 

Harry stepped closer to kiss him, cupping Louis' face in his hands. He smiled as he felt Louis' arms slide around him, pulling him in.

 

"Saves us taking out an ad in the Tribune," Harry joked, as their kiss ended.

 

Louis smiled, patting his bottom.

 

"We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow. We should hit the hay."

 

Harry smiled, eyes bright with excitement. Tomorrow they would begin the harvest; the ripe fruits being picked and transported straight to market in daily double shifts.

 

Harry had got an offer from a small canning company for their second harvest thanks to his business savvy and once that had all gone through then the farm would be back on the right track for next season.

 

They walked back to the house, hand in hand, the moon disappearing under the clouds in the sky and blanketing the yard in darkness.

 

//

 

 

It looked like the whole town was there on their first picking day.

 

People turned up in their droves to help them out voluntarily, no repayment requested other than consuming some of Margaret's fresh-made lemonade and Harry's baked treats.

 

He set up Margaret at the house with provisions before dressing in his blue jeans and purple converse; one of Louis' big tee-shirts stretched over his chest. He'd probably end up taking it off as the temperatures rose but for now, he was just excited to be a part of it.

 

Louis and Hank split the groups into two and gave out the necessary safety instructions, assigning the helpers with various tasks to keep the harvesting running smoothly.

 

Harry was put on Hank's team to his disappointment but he also knew he would get distracted with Louis charging about, shouting instructions and flexing his muscles with the physical exertion required in picking.

 

Soon enough the cherry-pickers were in motion, people starting the controlled plan hesitantly but soon gathering confidence and speed; peaches landing ripe and full in their allotted bins where Louis and Hank directed drivers to take them out, to the market in town.

 

"Hey, you know Louis?" Harry asked a young woman assigned to his squad. They were paired up to pretty the peaches- pulling off leaves and twigs and checking for any insect damage or rot that might have occurred inside the fruit.

 

"Yeah, I'm Michelle...I work in the shake bar and he comes in after his morning shift...well, he used to anyways..."

 

Harry couldn't help his smile.

 

"I make him smoothies now."

 

She smiled back.

 

"I wondered why he'd stopped coming!"

 

Harry shrugged.

 

"Didn't know how to boil an egg before I came here," he admitted.

 

She snorted.

 

"I'm no chef, believe me."

 

He shrugged.

 

"You know how to make shakes, though."

 

She grinned with a nod.

 

"That I do."

 

After that, they became fast friends, working well together on getting the fruit ready for the bins to be carted away.

 

Harry looked around for Louis each time Hank called for a break but their teams were alternating break-times to maximise work-output and prevent a segue into distracted chatter. He sighed, going back to finding out as much about Michelle as he could.

 

//

 

It was in the low evening sun that Louis came to find Harry, exhausted from the day's activity and aggravated by the sun-burn lining his shoulders; his face protected by thick coloured sun-block and a baseball cap, too.

 

He was weary, aching and limping a bit since he twisted his left knee in trying to save a weak branch from falling when it had been pulled by over-keen pickers; the joint splitting from the trunk precariously.

 

He looked up into the clearing where the remaining, hard-core volunteers had settled, around something of a camp-fire, singing and-

 

 _Was that Harry?_ Dancing?

 

Louis recognised Michelle from the shake shop; posed in his arms as they circled the fire to the laughter of the others; to much cat-calling and wolf-whistling.

 

"Shush!" Harry grinned, hushing them loudly with his wide, dimpled smile.

 

Louis felt something hit him in the chest; strong and hard and he didn't like the feeling.

 

He was jealous. Jealous as all out hell.

 

He might have told the world that Harry was his boyfriend but they didn't know- until now that is- that Harry liked girls too. And now that they knew that, they'd be gossiping about Louis' worst fear, that Harry would leave him for a woman. And Michelle was certainly the kind of girl-next-door beautiful that guys went wild for. She was certainly pretty by anyone's standards.

 

He paused, hands on hips as he swallowed, his throat sore and skin burning from the sun and the heat of the fire.

 

Harry saw him standing there right away and disconnected from Michelle to bound over enthusiastically, scooping Louis into strong arms.

 

"Heyy," he picked him up and hugged him, putting him down long enough only to kiss him; a hand pressed to Louis' cheek to shield their mouths slightly from any on-lookers.

 

The calls and whistles grew ten times louder.

 

Louis clung to his shoulders with muscle-fatigued arms.

 

"I'm tired, Harry. I'm going in."

 

Harry's eyes flickered, something like disappointment appearing and disappearing from his face in the blink of an eye.

 

"Come and hang out, Lou. Just for a bit."

 

Louis shook his head, stepping away with a sigh.

 

"I hurt my knee and-"

 

Harry's expression immediately changed to concern.

 

"You hurt your knee? When? Why didn't you call for me?"

 

Louis' gaze flicked over Harry's shoulder towards Michelle, watching her pirouette on her own without Harry to guide her.

 

"I had to just power through it."

 

Harry wound his arms around Louis' waist slowly, carefully holding him.

 

"I'll come back with you and call the doctor out."

 

Louis swallowed, shaking his head.

 

"I don't need the doctor I just need a hot bath and some sleep."

 

"Fine, then I'll help you with that," Harry decided. "Let me just say good night to everyone..."

 

Louis smiled tiredly, his body lagging as Harry let him go.

 

"You should stay," he called as Harry turned, looking back over his shoulder. "Enjoy your evening," he added.

 

Louis turned and limped away.

 

//

 

"Hey-hey..."

 

Harry's voice accompanied his arm bracing under Louis' shoulder blades as he tried to make it back to the house unaided.

 

"Where do you think you're going?" Harry nosed into his hair, pressing a kiss to his temple.

 

Louis sighed, resting his weight against him as he hobbled.

 

"Home," Louis mused. "At least I'm trying."

 

"Will you let me carry you?" Harry wondered.

 

Louis smirked.

 

"You might break a nail."

 

Harry unceremoniously hauled Louis into his arms at that; finding his balance easily and setting off at  a brisk walk as though he had lifted a bag of feathers.

 

"Harry, I-"

 

"Shush, Lou," Harry smiled, happily strolling back to the house with Louis as his cargo.

 

//

 

"What happened?" Margaret rushed to Louis' aid as Harry lowered him into one of the kitchen chairs..

 

"Hurt his knee," Harry explained. "Didn't tell anybody until now."

 

Margaret tilted her head and scolded him with a tut.

 

"Louis, you'll do yourself a damage one of these days."

 

Louis wilted tiredly with a yawn.

 

"Can I get clean first?"

 

Harry helped him to the shower.

 

//

 

His knee must have been bandaged while he was sleeping because it was fully supported on a pillow of its own, his head sunk into another soft cloud and his body covered in a grey hoodie and some too-long basketball shorts.

 

"H?" He called out on a dry throat, lifting his head.

 

It pounded and his shoulders ached but the burning sensation was gone. He smelled calamine lotion.

 

"Shh, sleepy time," he heard a low voice murmur and looked around with a squint into the dark; sourcing Harry getting undressed by his bedside.

 

"Can't sleep without you," Louis whispered.

 

"Want some water?" Harry pulled on a jersey over his sweat pants, coming around to Louis' side to help him drink.

 

Louis got a whiff of muscle rub and realised Harry must have massaged him, too. Along with treating his sunburn and wrapping his knee.

 

When Louis closed his eyes though, all he saw was Harry dancing in the sunset with Michelle, a smile on his face.

 

He settled back into the bed, feeling Harry roll onto the mattress beside him. The other man pulled over the covers, making sure it was tucked in around Louis' body with no gaps to let in the cold night air.

 

"Lou? You okay?"

 

Louis hummed in his throat, feeling Harry's fingers slide through his before he drifted back into sleep.

 

//

 

Louis woke early, his alarm wrenching him from a warm, cocooned feeling which turned out to be because Harry was sprawled slightly across him, a leg thrown over his thighs and carefully avoiding his injured knee.

 

His let his fingers tangle in Harry's thick hair and breathed in the soft smell of him, not his usual Tom Ford aftershave (the bottle which now had a home on Louis' dresser) but peaches, sweet and ripe like the ones they'd picked in the thousands just yesterday.

 

He squeezed Harry with the arm that was around his shoulders, nosing into his hair.

 

"Baby, we have to get up. Sun's rising in ten minutes and we can't waste any time."

 

Harry made a pained noise in his throat and flopped over, star-fishing on his back.

 

"You're the Devil."

 

Louis picked up his cell-phone from the nightstand and checked the weather.

 

"Fuck, there's a storm coming in tonight..."

 

"Yeah?" Harry lifted his head, opening his eyes only to squint at Louis.

 

"Eight o'clock it's predicted."

 

"We should be done by then."

 

"Only just," Louis winced, making to move and slowing himself when everything in his body protested. "And if it hits early we could lose some of the crop."

 

Harry sat up, folding his legs.

 

"Alright, I'm on it..."

 

Louis inched to the edge of the bed and lifted his knee down, stretching as much as he could before he got up.

 

"Shit," he almost toppled over as he attempted his first step.

 

Harry veered to catch him, on his way to the bathroom to shower.

 

"Come on, old man," Harry smiled, brushing his floppy hair out of his face with a big hand. "I'll carry you again if you like..."

 

Harry's hand made to grasp for his thigh but Louis hopped away from his advance, grinning tiredly.

 

"Hey, I can walk," Louis assured, continuing his journey with slow, limped strides as Harry watched with one brow arched.

 

"So you can. My bad," he murmured as he gently guided Louis to the bathroom with a hand against his lower back.

 

//

 

The storm struck early.

 

Harry went looking for Louis when the volunteers were told to go home before the weather changed for the worst and only a few of the locals hung around to help out, the ones who didn't have far to go or could stay at the house.

 

Hank's squad strode through the windy avenues, leaves tossing in bristled winds as they sought out their leader.

 

"Louis!" Hank ran to the younger man, stumbling to a halt. "What's the story?"

 

Louis blinked up at him, swallowing hard.

 

"We have to get down what we can. Rain'll ruin the crop, the fruit'll get damaged and mould..."

 

Hank nodded.

 

"Okay, so we just grab them off the branches, whatever's in reach?"

 

"Leave the small fruits, the leaves should protect them for the second harvest," Louis instructed.

 

Harry's stomach twisted. _The second harvest_. The lucrative batch that he had tied up with a canning company to be branded and sold in supermarkets.

 

"Louis, what can I do?"

 

Harry stepped forward, Michelle at his heels.

 

"Don't bother making them pretty anymore, just get them in the buckets and onto the pick-ups, as many as you can."

 

Harry hesitated, an aggrieved frown lining his face.

 

"Louis," he spoke softly, so nobody else would hear. "Be careful. Please."

 

Louis looked at him, flicking his eyes to one side to bring Michelle into focus.

 

"Look after your new friend," Louis said only, turning to hobble away.

 

He'd strapped a support around his knee this morning but Harry couldn't help the pain that flickered in his chest at seeing him hurt and struggling. And had he just--?

 

He turned to squint at Michelle.

 

"You better go home," he suggested for her own safety.

 

"No, I'll stay," she assured. "My Dad's a cow farmer so I've been through a lot worse."

 

Harry nodded and followed her back into the trees.

 

//

 

The rain began lashing down in diagonal sheets, knocking against the leaves loudly and soaking the grassed ground underfoot.

 

It became slippery to walk on, Harry and Michelle calling it quits once Hank came out to round them up, telling them they had to get inside before the lightening started.

 

The thunder came first, rolling lowly around the hills and rumbling threateningly in the background as they made their way back on foot, the trucks filled to the brim with produce.

 

Michelle slipped and fell a few times so Harry offered his hand, picking her up and shrouding her under his arm as the rain soaked his whole body; his clothes glued to his skin.

 

"Where's Louis?" He asked Hank as they passed by the second marker, the area that Louis had been controlling with his troupe

 

Hank pressed his lips together in a thin line.

 

"I lost radio contact with him half an hour ago."

 

"What?" Harry turned, looking into the trees helplessly.

 

"He told me to get everyone safe and when I tried to tell him to get himself safe he cut off his radio connection."

 

Harry's face contorted into anger and frustration; Michelle shivering under his arm.

 

"He's such an idiot!" Harry muttered, annoyed.

 

Hank shrugged.

 

"You want me to go look for him?"

 

"No, I'll go," he slipped his arm from around Michelle's shoulders. "Why don't you head in with Hank?" He said.

 

She nodded and told him to take care. Harry took off his shoes, knowing barefoot he'd have better chance than in grip-free converse. He tied the laces together and slung them around his neck.

 

"Louis, where the fuck are you?" He asked as he trudged into the trees.


	10. Chapter 10

"Louis!" Harry ran into the trees to find Louis gathering the last of the buckets.

 

"Harry, get indoors!" He yelled. "I thought I told Hank to make sure you got inside!"

 

Harry lifted his hands exasperatedly.

 

"I wasn't going without you, was I?"

 

Louis flicked his eyes away, his knee weakening under the load of the peaches and he stumbled a bit.

 

Harry reached over to curl his fingers around the bucket handles.

 

"I'll take them. You just concentrate on walking."

 

Louis didn't let the containers go.

 

"I can manage," he gritted. "Just go and I'll follow."

 

"Why're you being so stubborn?" Harry yelled, a frighteningly loud crack of thunder making him startle. "Fuck, Louis, come on," he tugged at the handles.

 

"Where's Michelle?"

 

Harry made a face and shucked out air, water cascading over his face. He slew it off his hair with a hand.

 

"Does it really matter right now?"

 

"Thought you two were attached at the hip now," Louis began to stalk into the dense orchard, Harry following hotly after, reluctantly letting the bucket handles go as Louis wrenched them from his grip.

 

Louis faltered in the wet, his feet losing grip and his weight imbalanced with the pain in his knee. Harry rushed up beside him and grabbed the bucket handle again.

 

"Michelle went back to the house, Lou. I came looking for _you_."

 

Louis carried on for a few minutes, another clap of thunder sounding out overhead followed by a glint of lightening, close and startlingly bright.

 

"Fuck," Harry whispered, finally prizing a bucket from Louis' hand. "Give me the other one, too," he commanded.

 

Louis glared at him.

 

"I saw you holding hands with her."

 

"What?" Harry asked above the onslaught of the storm; his body beginning to shiver in the cold now they'd come to pause.

 

"I saw her cuddling up to you as you walked down."

 

Harry narrowed his eyes, ignoring the rain slewing into them.

 

"And you think I want her?" Harry accused, chest smarting.

 

"Do you?" Louis wondered, blue eyes wide with insecure hurt.

 

"Louis, fuck! I can't believe you even have the audacity to ask me that!" Harry arched a brow, turning to trudge further into the trees to bring them closer to home.

 

"You danced with her!" Louis accused as he followed more slowly.

 

Harry deliberately slowed his pace to accommodate his injury, gritting his teeth.

 

"I didn't know dancing wasn't allowed."

 

"You didn't dance with _me_ ," Louis stated.

 

"You were too tired!"

 

"We could have-" Louis started, without a real argument to launch.

 

"Did you ask?" Harry swirled to rip the other bucket from Louis' free hand, watching him stumble a bit with the sudden action.

 

Louis swallowed, eyes sliding to the grass as the thunder smacked deafeningly loud above them, another blinding flash of light appearing to strike right beside them; the sickening sound of electric hitting tree-trunk and splitting it apart.

 

It was one of the peach trees and it happened so fast; the trunk dividing into two, each side falling with burning leaves among the tumbling branches.

 

"Louis!" Harry dropped the buckets and dashed forward to yank him out of the way where he was stood, frozen to the spot, his knee locked into place.

 

He didn't make the distance fast enough- _mere feet_ \- and the trunk missed him by a matter of yards but the branches collapsed around them; one striking Louis between the shoulder blades. Harry ducked; shielding himself as the debris fell hard and fast into the clearing.

 

"Ah, fuck," Harry wriggled as he was almost overwhelmed with the tree; rolling out of the way.

 

The thunder rolled away onto the other side of the orchard, taking it away from danger vicinity.

 

"Louis?!" Harry quickly got himself up and brushed himself off; looking for a small body among the mess of tree.

 

Louis was pinned, front down in the grass when Harry got to him and try as he might, he couldn't lift the branch alone. He trailed back his fringe delicately, pressing a kiss to his forehead and checking his mouth for breath. Louis had been knocked unconscious but he was alive. That's all Harry need to know as he began to sprint back to the house.

 

//

 

Hank got the winch out on the back of the truck and wired the felled tree up with help from Harry; allowing the attending emergency services to check Louis over. They strapped him to a back-board just in case and when they got him into the back of the ambulance, Harry and Margaret looked at each other, both not voicing their desire to travel with him to the hospital.

 

Harry swallowed down his worry.

 

"You go, Auntie," he said. "I'll get dried and changed."

 

"Are you sure?" Margaret asked, fretting over Louis worriedly.

 

"Go," Harry said again. "Don't make them wait."

 

Margaret got into the vehicle and Harry rushed into the house while they stabilised Louis enough to move him.

 

//

 

"What happened?" Louis squinted, his surroundings coming into focus. He wasn't alarmed at the setting because he'd been there before.

 

Once when his appendix burst and those other five times when his step father had knocked him about.

 

Margaret came into view.

 

"The storm brought down a tree and it knocked you out," she answered calmly enough but Louis heard the strain of tears in her voice.

 

"Hey," he reached for her hand. "I'm ok. It's just concussion right?"

 

She nodded but melted into sobs.

 

"They thought you might have a haemorrhage...or a serious back injury."

 

Louis swallowed.

 

"I'm sorry, Margaret... _fuck_ , I'm so sorry..."

 

She shook her head and got up to hug him which was awkward thanks to being laid down and tucked under blankets.

 

When he lifted his head the room went swoopy so he kept it on the pillow.

 

"Do I have a sexy bandage?" He felt around himself and detected a diagonal bandage wrapped around his shoulder; the sore spot pulsing to the front right of his chest. He wondered if the impact of the falling tree had dislocated his shoulder.

 

"I wouldn't call it sexy."

 

Louis swung his gaze deeper into the room; making out Harry by the far window. He had his hands tucked into his dark blue, white-splodged jeans, a wide black and white striped jumper over them and a pair of Doc Martens on his feet- about the last thing Louis would expect to see him wearing.

 

Louis sucked in a breath at the sight of him, his monitor blipping faster.

 

"Hey, are _you_ alright?" Louis asked, his memory suddenly flooding back. "Did you get hit, too?"

 

He recalled the way Harry shouted his name, right after the tree got struck; the way he'd been pinned to the spot unable to move. He remembered Harry running for him and the overwhelming sensation of being knocked flying by tree branches, his vision blacking out as he hit the ground.

 

Harry shook his head.

 

"I made it out of the way."

 

Louis swallowed, his eyes raking over his boyfriend, every word of their fight coming back to him.

 

_"And you think I want her?"_

_"You danced with her!"_

_"You were too tired!"_

 

It seemed stupid now, so trivial in the circumstances. And of all the places to stand and yell at him, Louis had chosen the most dangerous.

 

"Guess I'm still in the doghouse," he murmured of their argument before the tree came down, before lightening destroyed god knew how much of their harvest.

 

Margaret looked between them.

 

"I expect you want some privacy," she got up, kissing Louis' cheek. "I'm so glad you're ok."

 

Louis squeezed her hand with a smile.

 

"Thank you, Margaret. I love you," he appreciated of her company.

 

"I love you too, little one," she smiled as she left the room.

 

Louis watched Harry approach the bed slowly; his hair in it's natural state, a bit wavy with kinks at the ends. He smiled, his hand twitching on the covers, wanting to link their fingers to prove that they could, that he hadn't lost what they had before the storm because of his stupid insecurity.

 

"I owe you an apology," Louis began, his monitor blipping away steadily in the background.

 

Harry shook his head, circling Louis' wired wrist with gentle fingers to quiet him.

 

"When I saw you were hurt..."

 

Louis took a breath; tracing the guilt and worry on Harry's face.

 

"Come here," he gestured for Harry to get up onto the bed.

 

Harry carefully nudged himself into Louis' side to be cuddled. Louis rested his cheek into Harry's soft hair.

 

"I'm sorry," Louis said then, cuddling him closer. "For being a jealous dick. For shouting at you. For making you take that risk in the storm when you could have been hurt..."

 

"Louis you _were_ hurt," Harry mumbled. "You were hurt before the tree came down and that's because of me."

 

"No, that's because I hated seeing you happy with someone else."

 

Harry swallowed, his head nudging up against Louis' chin.

 

"I've been hurt, too you know. I'm the one who should be insecure, Lou."

 

"Baby I know you were hurt. Niall told me the whole story," he derided. "That's not who I am, Harry. I'd never hurt you."

 

"That's what she said too," Harry whispered, clutching his arm around Louis' middle.

 

Louis pressed a kiss among his hair. He hadn't ever thought that Harry would be afraid of losing him. And he could see now how his anger might have given him the idea that he wanted out.

 

"Did she tell you she loved you?" Louis asked.

 

Harry shook his head.

 

"I love you, Harry. _I_ love you. Maybe she didn't but I do."

 

Harry gasped in a breath that Louis felt against his neck before big green eyes looked into his.

 

"Lou-"

 

"I love you," Louis said it again with a swallow, his blue eyes searching green for reciprocation.

 

Soft pink lips smudged into his own.

 

He smiled in delight as Harry kissed him, half laid in his lap. His monitor blipped quickly as he cupped Harry's face to kiss him back.

 

"If you cause my brain to explode Margaret will never forgive you," Louis murmured.

 

Harry smirked, thumbing away his lip gloss from Louis' lips.

 

He sat back on the edge of the bed.

 

"Don't go out in the storm next time?" He asked.

 

Louis nodded with a smile, linking their fingers.

 

"I'll try not to."

 

Harry huffed because he knew Louis would dare to do anything he felt necessary to save the farm.

 

He looked at their linked fingers for long moments, tracing gentle fingertips over Louis' knuckles and skin.

 

"You know I feel the same, don't you?" He ventured quietly, eyes flicking to Louis' quickly.

 

Louis held them.

 

"You do?"

 

Harry nodded, biting his lip.

 

"I love you, too. And Michelle is just a friend," he added softly. "We're both into other people, I just-"

 

Louis felt an exhilaration whiz around him.

 

"I know," he grasped Harry's hand to squeeze it. "You're a flirt."

 

Harry curled and laid his head in Louis' lap. Louis' fingers soon threaded among his hair.

 

"Let's not fight any more?" Louis husked.

 

Harry hummed in his throat as his eyes closed.

 

//

 

 

"Oh Louis, hai," Nora greeted with her loud, nasal tones as Louis loitered in the tool aisle, his hand twined firmly with Harry's while Harry carried a basket in his other hand.

 

"Hi, Nora," he smiled.

 

Her gaze dropped to their hands and then back to their faces with a fake smile.

 

"I see you two are gettin' good an' cosy..."

 

Harry shifted his body to look at her, his lips curving into a placid smile.

 

"So _very_ good and cosy," he arched a brow suggestively. "If you know what I mean..."

 

Nora's mouth opened and closed again.

 

"I'll get Richard to help you with your spanners," she turned and trotted back to the desk, leaving Louis to chuckle quietly, his grin lighting up the whole room.

 

"You're terrible," he teased his beau, lifting their hands to kiss the back of Harry's.

 

"She's nosy," he defended. "She wants to know how hard we fuck and if we go all night long."

 

Louis turned to Harry with both brows lifted in interest. His eyes flicked down his front; over his cream gauze shirt and onto his fitted burgundy jeans that he'd paired with his gold-buckle boots. His hair was smoothly styled away from his face; recently trimmed and tidy.

 

Louis pursed his lips, his gaze lingering on Harry's thighs.

 

"Wouldn't she like to know," he murmured.

 

"She would!" Harry expressed, smiling as he turned in towards Louis, stooping to account for their height difference.

 

"Maybe you can tell her," Louis smiled as he lifted his chin for a kiss. "We can be front page news again..."

 

Harry's lips suckled his sweetly; a tender and meaningful kiss pressed into his mouth. A throat-clearing brought them apart slowly, startling only slightly at Richard's appearance.

 

"Hi, Ric," Louis smiled, his cheeks flaming.

 

"Hey, Harry." Ric greeted the other man first. "What is it ya lookin' for Lou?"

 

Louis was tempted to turn and ask Harry just when the heck he'd made friends with the other man but he controlled his curiosity enough to ask.

 

"Just a standard hinged wrench," Louis explained.

 

"I haven't got any out," Ric replied. "Let me look out the back while you finish lookin' around."

 

Louis licked his lips, venturing a look to Harry.

 

"You two friends?"

 

Harry shrugged.

 

"He needed help jump-starting his truck one time outside the shop. I gave him a push down the hill."

 

Louis blinked, the image of Harry in his beautiful clothes, fingernails painted delicately and face made-up just like he was now but pushing an old pick-up down the road made his insides squiggle.

 

"Now _that_ , I would have liked to see," he mused as he trailed around the shop until he was done, setting his basket on the counter for Nora to ring up.

 

"Hey Lou..." Harry nudged up behind him, one hand slipping onto his tummy.

 

Louis felt warmth wash over him and an amused smile played at his lips.

 

"Hm?" He looked over his shoulder, but Harry was too close to see.

 

"Want you to fuck me later...know you can go all night, stud," he whispered.

 

Louis bit his lip to curb his grin, his eyes flicking up to meet Nora's, widened with shock like her mouth.

 

"Uh, can you tell Ric I'll pick up the wrench another time?" Louis threw some notes at her. "Keep the change," he added as he stuffed his purchases into a bag himself and turned to drag Harry out of the shop behind him.

 

Harry raced ahead of him to the truck with gleeful giggles.

 

"Hey!" Louis raced after him and smacked his bottom lightly. "You're gonna get me in trouble."

 

Harry turned to press his back into the truck door, his lips pulled into a wide smile.

 

"What you gonna do about it, peachy?"

 

Louis tossed the bag of goods into the back of the truck and fisted his hands in the front of Harry's shirt to kiss him; gentling his hands to flatten against his chest, thumbing over his nipples through the gauzy material of his shirt. Harry widened his thighs so Louis could crowd closer, one hand curving around his thigh to squeeze it wantonly.

 

"Baby," Louis husked, lips dragging down Harry's throat.

 

Harry grabbed the hand on his chest and pushed it down, onto the front of his jeans.

 

"Touch me, Louis. Jesus...please,"

 

Louis flexed his fingers around Harry's dick; getting a rhythm to stroke as he hardened; right there in the parking lot, their favourite place to make out.

 

"You always pick the worst places to turn it on," Louis mused as they parted from another scorching kiss, their breaths slowing.

 

Harry was hard under Louis' palm; his jeans still fastened. His eyes were pupil-blown, his lips bright red and not from lipstick but from the way they kissed; strong and hard.

 

"Take me home?" Harry licked his lips and bit into the bottom one.

 

Louis paused, looking into his eyes. They would usually just get each other off in the truck somehow; quick hand-jobs or blow-jobs before they could get caught. Their passion was so explosive they had to adapt sometimes; had to find places to hide.

 

But Harry had never asked to be taken home.

 

The fact they talked about fucking -even _teased_ each other about it- didn't change the fact that they _hadn't_. Harry had been reluctant while Louis was injured and then Zayn had come to stay at the farm for a while....but now? Now Louis could see the want very precisely in his boyfriend's eyes. He could see the need.

 

"I'll take you home," Louis confirmed softly as he walked to the driver's side of the truck to slide in.

 

It was only when he'd started the vehicle and pulled away that it registered that Sacramento was now home to Harry; and no longer his beloved New York.

 

//

 

"Baby, go slow, okay? Want you to go so slow..."

 

Louis was sat in the armchair in his room; Harry facing outwards in his lap. They could have done this facing but Harry liked the idea of Louis' chest brushing his back; liked the feeling of his lips on his neck. Louis would give him the world so he hadn't argued.

 

"Easy," Louis' hands gripped his waist firmly as he lowered himself, his hole brushing the head of his dick. Louis put a hand around himself to steady that encroachment; to guide Harry onto him.

 

Harry had been beautiful while Louis fingered him open. He had turned into a whining, boneless heap when Louis had licked into him. Now they were in the perfect moment; nervous and excited and about to share everything two men could share.

 

"Easy," Louis murmured again, voice cracking as Harry eased lower; his muscles giving way to Louis' thickness.

 

"Oh," Harry sucked in a  breath and let it out, letting himself sink down a bit with it. "Oh, Lou..."

 

"Mmm," Louis hummed, sucking kisses into his neck. He stroked the back of one finger sensuously down his spine, sucking into his shoulder. "So good."

 

Harry shifted a bit, getting into a comfortable position on his knees; bending forward a bit as he got used to the feeling of Louis within him; just an inch or so at first.

 

"You good?" Louis nuzzled behind his ear. "Want to change?"

 

Harry shook his head, his fluffy hair falling about. Louis loved it when he was fresh out of the shower and unmade.

 

Harry's gold fingernails dug into his knees as he sank back some more, still hovering from taking Louis' fully inside.

 

"Want you to sit on me," Louis murmured, reaching around to stroke Harry's hardness, his hand flattening onto his belly and over his chest, thumbing into his nipple.

 

Harry made a noise and wriggled; hips not in a rhythm yet.

 

"Lou-"

 

"Yes, baby?"

 

"You're so big," Harry breathed. "It feels so nice."

 

Louis smirked.

 

"Nice?"

 

Harry chucked out a breath.

 

"Amazing," he amended.

 

Louis pressed warm, soft kisses against the back of his neck, flicking his fingers through the short hair there.

 

"Feel so good, Harry. The best."

 

Harry lifted up; muscles flexing inside and thighs quivering with the strain. He took a few breaths and leaned back a bit; letting his weight rest on Louis' chest this time.

 

"Baby, that's perfect," Louis murmured against his ear.

 

Harry sank right down the second time; wincing a little as he went too fast and Louis chided him softly, thumbing his nipple to ease the pain. It began to feel really good and he let himself relax against Louis' body; Louis' hands splayed on his belly and chest to keep him safe.

 

Harry began to circle his hips; testing the sensation of being full before rocking his hips against the feeling. One hand went behind him to grasp the chair edge for security; Louis' hand diving between his thighs and curling around the inner-side of one, grasping the flesh there needily.

 

"Oh, Harry..."

 

Harry rocked his hips; curving forward to get a different angle and gasping as something electric shot up inside him like a firework, exploding behind his eyes. Louis encouraged him to do it again; his own small body underneath him pulsing into him and pushing his thickness into a place that Harry hadn't dreamed could reach so much pleasure. His lips fell open as he cried out in little pants; too overwhelmed to shout or cry.

 

"Baby, look at you...you're so beautiful," Louis whispered, hands holding Harry gently, firmly and lovingly.

 

Harry couldn't have asked for more as they fit together, Louis' thick heat sheathed inside him as his muscles stretched to take him, over and over again. He was in charge, Louis had put him on top for that sole purpose and yet he felt a slave to his desires; he felt helpless to his body's need.

 

"Please," he ground down, twisting on Louis' base to feel him deep inside.

 

"What do you need, Harry?" Louis gasped, hips rutting into him now as they clashed together and drew apart; ebbing and binding with such intensity.

 

Louis' hand went around him; stroking him quick but it wasn't what tipped Harry over the edge. Louis growling 'mine' into his ear as he speared him before releasing hard inside him, easing out quickly to prevent hurting him; that was what made him choke out ecstatic cries and splatter all over his own thighs and Louis' beneath.

 

"Lou," he panted, grasping the hand that pressed into his chest; falling weakly into the strong hold.

 

"I've got you, beautiful." Louis held him tightly as they came down from the moment quietly together.

 

Harry shifted as soon as he felt able to move, pressing his front into Louis' and straddling his hips as he tightened his arms around Louis' shoulders.

 

"Hey; get comfy," Louis murmured, guiding him to curl into his lap so he wasn't on his knees anymore. "That's better," Louis cuddled him close with kisses into his hair.

 

"Who knew," Harry breathed some time later, pressing a kiss into Louis' jaw.

 

Louis twisted his lips.

 

"You did," Harry smiled tiredly, pressing another kiss into his cheek.

 

"I mean, it's never been like this before," Louis offered, turning his face to kiss Harry's swollen lips tenderly.

 

"Never?" Harry checked, his green eyes wide and vulnerable.

 

Louis shook his head.

 

"Don't want anyone else," he promised.

 

Harry smiled.

 

"Ditto."

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for reading :)
> 
> Ang

The room was buzzing; people winding in and out of little groups of people who talked loudly and sipped champagne.

 

Louis found it overwhelming; the lights and pomp of it all but he came because his boyfriend was styling for the biggest name at New York Fashion Week, his favourite designer by far- Gucci.

 

He had watched Harry dress into a smart, well-fitted geometric print suit in golds and browns while he'd pulled on his favourite skinny jeans with a white t-shirt; shucking on a new buck suede jacket in a mushroom brown that was modern enough for him to fit in, but not showy enough to stand out. In fact he should be in a suit himself but Harry had told him he didn't need to dress up and Louis had trusted him.

 

There were other guys in the room in jeans and trainers, he wasn't the only one. When Louis spotted more and more guests in causal attire he began to relax a bit, grabbing a glass to try the champagne and sipping it slowly.

 

"Hey, Louis!" A warm voice called, a hand sliding across his shoulders right before he was enveloped into a hug.

 

"Zayn?" Louis gave Harry's friend a bemused smile. "I didn't think you could make it."

 

Zayn shrugged, brow lifting as the corners of his lips curved just slightly.

 

"Plans got changed. Turns out I could come."

 

Louis nodded, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

 

"Harry asked you to baby-sit me didn't he?"

 

Zayn feigned shock, pressing offended fingers to his chest.

 

"I cannot believe you'd suggest such a thing," Zayn turned him towards the seating area, rushing to the second row.

 

"He thought I'd get lonely," Louis sighed as they sat down, Louis' knee bobbing as he looked around.

 

Zayn's hand rested on his knee to still it.

 

"You might. These things can get boring."

 

"I just want to support him, you know?" Louis mused. "I can handle a few nights of the Big City to do that."

 

"Clubbing after?" Zayn asked.

 

Louis smiled.

 

"If Harry wants to go, then sure."

 

"If Harry wants to..." Zayn teased him, poking him in the ribs. "You two are so cute!"

 

Louis let his gaze fall to the ground, nodding with a smile.

 

"He means a lot to me."

 

"And you mean enough to him to give up the job of a lifetime to move out to California..." Zayn commented.

 

Louis swallowed.

 

"The-erm, what job was that, sorry?"

 

Zayn flicked his brown eyes over Louis, letting them settle on his face.

 

"Oh. You don't know."

 

"You're right, I don't," Louis agreed. "Perhaps you can enlighten me?"

 

Zayn pursed his lips and looked away, towards the top of the catwalk where lights began to flash in time to the beat of the music.

 

"I guess he didn't want you to know. Gucci finally asked him to dress their runways for the whole of next year..."

 

"When?" Louis asked as the lights went down, the room plunged into darkness.

 

"Shh, darling, you'll ruin the show," Zayn whispered and cupped his knee again but Louis shifted it out from under his grip.

 

He wanted to know more about this job offer that Harry had been given and not discussed with him but now he had to wait for the show to be over.

 

//

 

 

Harry was full of life, bouncing with the music and heading back to Louis between songs, smushing his cheek into Louis' shoulder and looping his arms around them to hang on.

 

Harry was tipsy, at best.

 

"Lou, can we go now?" He asked.

 

Louis slipped an arm around him and nodded.

 

"Sure!" he called over the music. "You want to say goodbye to your friends?"

 

Louis toured Harry around the nearest groups of people; leading him outside and toward the taxi-rank for a ride. He'd grabbed Harry's jacket on the way out and helped him into it, smiling as Harry crowded close and brushed his lips against Louis' cheek.

 

"Lou?"

 

"Hm?"

 

"I love you."

 

"I know, baby. I love you too."

 

Harry swallowed, a crease forming above his brow.

 

"No, I really love you," he said more strongly.

 

Louis looked up and brushed his fringe back where it had fallen from its hold. He looked so beautiful with glitter dusting his cheeks, something one of his fashion friends had applied with a roller before they joined the disco.

 

"I really love you, too," Louis wrapped his arms around him as he stumbled forward, pressing his cheek against his shoulder once more.

 

He smirked as Harry's hand drunkenly groped his ass.

 

"You're so pretty, Louis."

 

Louis bit his lip against a giggle.

 

"I wish you could hear this when you're sober," he mused.

 

Harry huffed.

 

"Like being fuzzy."

 

"Hm, I can see that," Louis rubbed  a hand over his back soothingly.

 

He looked around to check the queue, seeing two girls ahead of them, holding hands and cuddling together to keep warm. He reeled back as a man stepped into their space; a blinding flash going off in front of his eyes.

 

"Heyy," Harry lifted his head, pointing behind Louis' back at the man. "I'm not famous, don't pap me."

 

"You're kidding right?" The guy grinned, flashing his camera twice more. "High profile Stylist for Gucci dates redneck farm-hand? The gossip mags will eat this up."

 

Louis put his hand over the lens of the camera.

 

"I'm not a redneck, now stop bothering my boyfriend."

 

The guy grinned and blew them a kiss as he tumbled away, the promise of fresh blood exiting the club.

 

Louis got Harry into the cab and put an arm around him so he could curl close into his side while they wound their way through the city's streets back to Harry's apartment.

 

//

 

"It's going up for sale next week," Harry announced as Louis let them in.

 

The doorman downstairs knew him now and was always friendly and helpful; discreetly ignoring Harry's rather drunken outburst of song in the Foyer and his heavy tumble into the lift.

 

Louis followed Harry through the house as he peeled off his clothes haphazardly, stumbling a few times before he made it to the bathroom in his boxers.

 

Louis heard him take a long wee while he gathered up the discarded clothes and gently tossed them into his linen basket.

 

"Why're you selling it? You might want to come back again..."

 

"Nope," Harry hung from the doorway with two hands grasping the framework edge.

 

Louis quickly went to help him, sliding off his jacket as he went.

 

"Hm," Harry hugged him, walking Louis backwards towards the bed. "Lou-bear. Peachy..."

 

Louis rolled his eyes and let himself be flattened on the mattress.

 

"You're going to need something to wear," he told his boyfriend as Harry seemed to settle on top of him in their uncomfortable position.

 

"Why?"

 

"You might get cold," Louis mused.

 

"Hm." Harry hummed and then rolled awkwardly over, almost sliding off the bed if it wasn't for Louis' quick save; securing him in place on the mattress.

 

"Stay there, please," Louis asked.

 

Harry flashed him an irresistible grin.

 

"We playing games, Lou? You goin'ta boss me about?"

 

Louis stared at him and walked to the draw-set, pulling open the third one to select a set of pyjama's; some flannel navy and white polka-dot ones which Louis was certain cost more than his annual earnings.

 

"Lou-ieee..."

 

Louis turned, gaze falling on the bed.

 

Harry grinned at him, star fishing his arms and legs.

 

"M' a bed angel," he announced. "S'like a snow angel but-"

 

"In the bed covers?" Louis guessed easily.

 

"Yep," Harry nodded, a happy smile on his face.

 

Louis came over and helped him into the warm bed-clothes, taking time out to get himself ready for bed using the bathroom and pulling on a hoodie over his sweatpants.

 

He paused in front of the bed, Harry more sedate now, a dimpled smile edging onto his lips as he laid splayed on his side, looking wide-eyed up at Louis.

 

"I'm not very sexy am I?" Louis lamented of his choice of sleep-wear.

 

Harry blinked, slow and sleepy.

 

"You're very sexy, Lou," he said. "If I wasn't so tired I'd be all over you right now."

 

Louis couldn't help his husky laugh at the drunken promise; walking the rest of the way to the bed.

 

"Tired, hm?" He queried amusedly. "Nothing to do with the champagne you consumed tonight..."

 

Harry lifted one arm and leg from the bed while Louis climbed in, then he settled them over Louis' body as he shuffled closer.

 

Harry's eyes crossed as he looked at him.

 

"I'm selling my place because I want to be with you."

 

Louis stroked a gentle hand up and down his back, kissing under his bottom lip softly.

 

"I appreciate the gesture but I can come here, too," Louis murmured. "I don't want you to cut all ties with your home."

 

"Not home," Harry yawned cutely, shivering at the tail end of it. Louis made sure to pull the covers up and squeeze him tighter.

 

"Sacramento is home?" Louis checked.

 

Harry nodded.

 

"Why didn't you tell me about the job?" Louis asked honestly, biting his lip.

 

He thought Harry had drifted off because it was quiet for so long.

 

"Knew you'd want me to go," He mumbled.

 

"Working for Gucci was your dream," Louis shifted so their legs slotted together more comfortably, warm and nice. "I'd have come with you Harry."

 

Harry snuggled into Louis' neck.

 

"Didn't want you to. Want to be with you."

 

"But you love this world. Tonight you were incredible and-"

 

"Shush," Harry cut him off, kissing his jaw and laying his head back down tiredly. "Try'na sleep here."

 

Louis swallowed down the pain of knowing he was the reason Harry would never fulfil his potential. As beautiful as it was knowing Harry would give it all up for him; he really didn't want him to. But what Harry wanted was more important than anything and he'd said it himself. He wanted to move out to California and have one life, with Louis.

 

"I love you so much," Louis whispered as Harry slipped into sleep.

 

//

_1 year later_

 

It was the week after harvest and Louis had a deep golden tan, showed off by his red scoop neck tee and some cargo shorts Harry bought him last Christmas. 

 

It had been their first Christmas on the farm together, Harry's mum joining them for a family get together and Louis was nervous meeting the woman Harry thought so highly of but it turned out she liked him. And for that Louis was grateful.

 

He'd got Harry a furry purple jacket for his gift, an item he'd seen Harry lusting over several times and refusing to buy it because of the price tag. When he'd secretly caught him trying it on in the shop he'd taken night work at Max's garage fixing up tractors; telling Harry he was just helping an old friend out for month.

 

Harry's face when he'd opened the box Louis had packed the coat into had been worth every bone achingly exhausting moment.

 

Louis had taken him to Tom's grave in the local Church-yard on one cold, frosty morning and he'd introduced Harry to him as though they weren't related, as though he was taking Harry to meet his real father for the first time and Harry had teared up a bit at the gesture, kissing Louis to distract his concern.

 

Louis looked down; his position sitting sideways on the sofa while he read a book on Orchard farming. Harry was curled between his thighs, lips pursed as his eyes avidly roamed the pages of a glossy fashion magazine.

 

"Lou," he pouted.  "Floral suits!"

 

Louis squinted  at the page he was shown, eyes taken off his boyfriend. 

 

"I'm sure your work place could cut you a deal." Louis said.

 

"But where would I wear it?" Harry wondered. "Bit too gay parade for this town."

 

Louis snorted.

 

"Pretty sure it was entirely gay parade when you decided to make out on the float at the May Fayre..."

 

"I didn't _decide_ to make out," Harry retorted.  "You just looked so nice in your plaid that I-"

 

"Molested me," Louis quipped.

 

"You didn't complain at the time," Harry smiled, his hand curving over Louis' thigh.

 

"You had my mouth all occupied I didn't get the chance."

 

"Oh really?" Harry enquired with a smirk of his lips. "And that hard-on you had was just coincidence  I suppose?"

 

Louis began to smile too, the memories rushing back of being caught red-handed by half the town, his hands on Harry's butt while Harry clung to him amidst their flaming kiss.

 

"It was a nervous reaction," Louis cited.

 

Harry let his magazine slide to the floor. He moved up on the sofa, covering Louis' small form. 

 

"Still nervous now?" Harry's eyes dipped between them, brow arching at the semi which was evident in Louis' tracksuit pants.

 

He swallowed, braving it out.

 

"Terrified. "

 

Harry's arms tucked around his shoulders, caging him in.

 

"I've got you protected," Harry smirked, brushing himself against Louis' crotch with a cat-like grin.

 

Louis rolled his eyes as his body betrayed him; his dick getting very interested at the abrasion cast upon it.

 

"Suppose you better kiss me then..."

 

Harry's smile grew into a toothy grin as he shifted again; his body laying upon Louis' more heavily; the soft brush of his lips instigating the kiss.

 

"Mmm," Harry moaned, sliding his arms around Louis' waist to bring him close and Louis let his own arms circle Harry's shoulders, just to like, help him out really so he didn't have to do all the work and-

 

_Who was he kidding?_

 

The pleasured groan was torn from his throat as the kiss deepened, their passion igniting quickly as usual.

 

"Lou, you've got to stop being so easy," Harry murmured as he pulled back to kiss down his jaw, onto his throat, licking there and then sucking a kiss into his collar-bones.

 

"I'm not easy," Louis panted, hips surging up into Harry's. "Not getting into my knickers, lothario..."

 

Harry chuffed out a laugh and his fingers went straight to Louis' jeans stud to unfasten them, the challenge clear.

 

"I'm not that kind of boy," Louis tried to sound outraged and came off breathy. "I want to wait until-"

 

"Until I marry you?" Harry arched a brow, pressing a gentle kiss to Louis' lips as he unzipped him, eyes avid on Louis' face.

 

"Marry me?" Louis repeated. He hadn't realised that was a thing, a consideration, something that Harry might want to do. With him of all people. "Marry me?" He whispered again, throat tight with the knowledge of wanting that more than anything in the world.

 

"Is that a proposal?" Harry twisted his hand into the opened front of Louis' jeans and curled fingers around his heat.

 

Louis swallowed, eyes meeting Harry's as he stroked, slowly. It was deliberate, unhurried and enticing.

 

"You're teasing me," he stated.

 

"I'm waiting to know if you're a man of honour," Harry teased, thumb slipping over the head of Louis' dick and head bowing to suck a kiss into his hip, leaving a loving bruise flourishing there.

 

Louis grasped the front of Harry's shirt to pull him close again, urging a heart-felt kiss onto his lips which distracted them from their conversation for several moments.

 

They were both half-dressed, sated and sticky with come when they spoke again, voices husked with spent passion and lack of water.

 

"I'd love to be your husband," Louis said into the quiet, fingers idling through Harry's cropped hair, sometimes teasing down onto his neck and making him shiver.

 

"Hm?" Harry blinked sleepily, beautiful curved lashes fluttering.

 

Louis' hand tightened around his upper arm where he was sprawled on Louis' chest.

 

"Your husband," he said again, more bravely. "I didn't think that was a possibility, that-"

 

Harry's head came up then, hair askew and eyes soft. He looked affronted.

 

"You didn't think I loved you?"

 

Louis shook his head with a smile because he knew Harry loved him, he showed it in so many ways, like cooking his pancakes and eggs in heart-shapes for breakfast now and following him around at harvest to make sure he didn't over-do it.

 

"I didn't know if you wanted forever with me."

 

Harry blinked, body heavy as he shuffled up a bit in Louis' arms.

 

"Louis, for fuck's sake, I willingly gave up the life I knew to be here with you."

 

Louis felt a stab of guilt thrust against his chest, leaving him sombre. Harry had given up everything for them and he'd given up nothing. Anonymity, maybe, since the entire town knew him as a raging homosexual now.

 

"Any time you want to go back-"

 

"That's not-" Harry huffed, glaring at Louis for three seconds until he kissed him; coaxing Louis' mouth into a fierce and meaningful union.

 

"That's not what I meant, Lou," he said eventually. "I meant that I want to marry you. Very much, actually. And I've kind of wanted to marry you since I found out you like those little marshmallows in your hot chocolate."

 

The thing was, Louis had no idea why Harry felt that way. No clear idea at all.

 

Louis' fingers trailed through his hair still, fingertips brushing over the softness of his lips, the back of his knuckles smoothing against his cheek.

 

"So you'll marry me then? Since I'm asking and this is an opportune moment to-"

 

"Where's my ring?" Harry cut in, lips pursing stubbornly.

 

Louis smiled, kissing his lips. Harry let that go on for a few minutes and then he felt Louis wriggling, trying to escape from under him.

 

"Where're you going?" He complained as he rolled back; kicking his jeans fully off his long legs.

 

Louis' body shot up the stairs like a bullet and thundered back down, the grin on his lips irrepressible.

 

"Lou..." Harry sat up, face conveying his surprise.

 

Louis bit his lip and let out a breath.

 

"I wanted the setting to be more formal..."

 

Harry blinked, shifting his weight to the front of the seat to get up, but Louis shuffled forward a bit, bare toes touching Harry's to indicate he should stay where he was. Louis lowered himself, one knee settling on the carpet.

 

"So," he looked up at Harry, his hands shaking and his eyes revealing his vulnerability.

 

Harry's face creased, his professional sheen and effortless cool completely deteriorated in that moment. It didn't matter that he'd walked runways with the models he'd styled, that he'd met and rubbed shoulders with some of the most influential names in fashion. All it boiled down to was this one moment; having a beautiful man wanting to marry him and having the precious manners to ask.

 

Even though Harry had been the one to hint at it, to seed the idea, it was Louis who had the ring, who had planned to propose all along but when would it have happened if Harry hadn't told him how he felt?

 

"Lou," he begged, throat thick with emotion.

 

"Will you marry me?" Louis asked, thrusting the ring box forward, opened and revealing the sparkling jewellery laid in its cushion.

 

The ring was stunning, a large diamond in the centre of shaped diamond-studded brackets alongside the jewel, artful and impossibly perfect to look at. Harry couldn't focus on it, surging up off the sofa to slide his arms around Louis' shoulders in a  tight hug, his sniffles giving away his emotion seconds later.

 

"Baby..." Louis rubbed his back, nosing into his ear. "Kiss me?"

 

Harry kissed him, his tears wetting both their cheeks as they smiled into the touches of their lips, jaws aching with the emotion behind it all; with the monumental decision of choosing each other for life.

 

Harry pulled back, a soft smile curving onto his lips.

 

"Where's the ring?" He asked quietly.

 

Louis brought his hand around from behind Harry to show him the box again. Harry took the jewellery out and slid it onto his finger.

 

"It's perfect, Lou."

 

Louis let his now-free hand cup Harry's bum.

 

"Think you're up for another round?"

 

Harry smirked, as if just realising they were both naked; plastered together.

 

"Can we use a bed this time? The sofa's lumpy..."

 

Louis gathered their clothes and held Harry's hand protected in his as he led him upstairs.


End file.
